From a Different Perspective
by secretsofgray
Summary: What happens when you force two hot-headed artists who hate each other to work together to save their art careers? Nothing good, right? But..."Sometimes, to really understand something, you have to look at it from a different perspective." Deidaraxoc
1. Chapter 1

**So. This is yet another idea produced by my overactive brain. Normally I'd wait until my other stuff was done, but this story came out as the proverbial brain child - in full armor and ready to go. It's kinda weird, actually, how I seem to know everything...O.O **

**Anyway. This is a Deidaraxoc, it'll tie in with two other stories that are now in the hands of the plot bunnies inside my head. It's AU, modern (just a warning) and will contain a significant less amount of angst than "When It All Comes Crashing Down." **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto...except in the third Universe to the right, the one with a black sun and perpetual stars. ;D**

**Off and Onward!**

Yuki Kioko wasn't the first or the last to enter the art room on the first day of the second semester at her high school. Her entrance went largely unnoticed as she took her seat. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about either the room or its students.

The question on the board, however, was a completely different matter.

Someone had written in large, neat print, _'What is art?'_

_Quite the question,_ she mused as she set her bag down and took a seat. Within the next two minutes the rest of the students filed in, taking seats, talking. The teacher entered just as the bell rang.

He was nothing impressive: mid height, slender, with dark brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail and glasses, maybe thirty, probably younger. He wore a simple flannel and worn-out jeans and carried a plain black case with him.

He turned to the class. "So, this is art II, huh?" he surveyed them. "Well. First matter. I'm Mr. Hikiru, but that makes me feel old. Call me Cinna. Don't get too comfortable where you are now, I have a specific seating arrangement." He paused. "Based on eye color."

Murmurs of curiosity resounded across the room. _Eye color? Really? Never heard of a teacher doing that before…_

_He's got to be kidding._

_Are you serious? _

_Well we all know who has the prettiest eyes…_

_Who? _

He held up a hand and quieted the room. "Darker eyes in the front; go from brown to hazel to green to blue to gray. If there is any problem deciding, I'll make the final decision. You have ten minutes."

Yuki knew where she'd be. She had very light gray eyes; she had very light _everything,_ thanks to the mutated gene that made her albino.

She gathered her things and moved to the very back.

Fifteen minutes later, with little to no hustle, twenty-two students were seated according to eye color. Just as she had predicted, Yuki was in the back. Some blond…no…_that _blond was next to her.

Yuki wonder what god she had pissed off this time. She shrunk in her seat and did what she did best – go unnoticed.

"We all situated? Very good. Now. I like to begin my classes with a discussion. So, you see the question on the board? Answer it. What is art?"

There was silence for a good thirty seconds, and then all at once, hands shot up.

"You, the black-haired one. First, say your name." Cinna called on a boy in the front.

"I am Sai," he said, "And art is something created by human hands in order to portray beauty."

Cinna mock-scoffed. "Dictionary definition. But workable. You, the girl with the pink streaks?"

"I'm Kisa. And art is what you are. It's a part of you, put into tangible substance. Like, if your soul had a shape or color."

Cinna _hmmed._ "Good answer. I like the part about the soul. How about you, in the back?" he motioned to Yuki.

"I'm Yuki. Kind of what like Kisa said. A part of you in 3-D. Poetry without words. And art is _anything._ It speaks to you, whatever it is, and leaves an impression. Art is the product of creative genius at its best, whatever that may be."

"Huh. Anything. Creative. Poetry. Beautiful. Good words. Erm…you, next to Yuki." He nodded his head to the blond.

"I'm Deidara, hm." He said. "And all these definitions are wrong. Art is a fleeting moment of beauty. Transient. It's not meant to last forever, hm, and it certainly isn't _anything._" He said scornfully, casting a snide look at Yuki. She returned his look with a glare.

A corner of Cinna's mouth quirked. "'Fleeting moment of beauty.' You a poet, boy?"

Deidara snorted. "Do I look like one, hm?"

"Point. Any refuting arguments?"

Two hands shot up.

"Okay, Yuki."

"If art is so _transient_ than why do we have art museums?"

"Because deranged 'artists' don't know what true art is!" Deidara called out.

Cinna's eyebrows shot up. "And you, Kisa?"

"Can art really even be defined?" she said with a shrug. "But why should it simply last a moment?"

Before anyone could say anything, a senior – or junior, Yuki couldn't tell – with brick red hair popped his head into the classroom. "Hmph. Cinna. _That_ question again?"

Cinna smirked. "Yes, Sasori. We have quite the discussion going. And shouldn't you be in class?"

"I have a free period," Sasori replied quickly. He took a glance and surveyed the room. "And for those of you who don't know, art is eternal beauty."

"Wrong, Sasori, hm," Deidara said. "Art isn't meant to last forever."

"Will you shut up with that?" Yuki seethed. Forget trying to be unnoticed. The very existence of this guy was making her blood boil. "How can art be fleeting? What do you do, erase a sketch the moment it's completed?"

Deidara grinned. "Art…is an _explosion!_"

Sasori sighed. "Have fun, Cinna. You're not gonna get through to that kid." He shook his head. "He works slow and will keep you waiting forever."

"Just cause _you_ lack patience, hm," Deidara muttered as Sasori left.

"Explosion, eternal, anything, tangible, beautiful, indefinable. Art." Cinna stopped and met each student's eye. "You are all officially students of art. Do you know what that means?"

The room was strangely silent, (given that it held twenty-two highschoolers fresh from Christmas break.)

"No? Well let me tell you. Your main goal in this class is to further your artistic ability, right? Yes, to an extent. But I intend for this to be a journey. For _all _of you." He paused. "I intend for you to leave my class this year with a deeper understanding of art and yourself. Some of you," at this, his eyes drifted to where Deidara and Yuki sat, "Already seem to have ideas. But then again, some of you don't. And ideas can be altered. So," he crossed his arms. "Shall we begin?"

He walked around, picking up supplies and mentioning techniques. He'd put certain words on the board, and explain them whether people asked or not, and call on students randomly to see what they knew.

Yuki sighed. She already _knew _this. Art had practically been her life for the longest time; she knew most of the terms, the supplies, and could pick things up quickly if she didn't know.

"Yuki," he said, probably because she looked like she was spacing out. "What's perspective?"

A corner of Yuki's mouth tweaked up. If this guy had planned to catch her off guard, he had another thing coming. "Perspective is how you view something, or how it appears relative to something else."

Next to her, she heard Deidara mutter a 'way to be specific.' In turn, Yuki's leg 'accidentally' jerked and kicked him.

"Right!" Cinna said, and then moved on to another student.

"Bitch," Deidara muttered.

"Douche." She hissed back.

"Whore."

"Asshole."

"Fucker."

"Piece of shit."

"No boobs, hm." he said with a triumphant smirk._ Oh, he did _not _just go there._

"No dick." Two could play at that game. Deidara's eye twitched.

"Ugly."

"Sucky artist." Yuki said, and knew that she had ended it. Deidara stood, so fast that his chair toppled over. "_What did you just say?"_

Yuki was about to reply when Cinna cleared his throat. It was then that she discovered – much to her chagrin – that the _entire class _was staring at her.

_Oops. _

"I believe," Cinna said quietly, "Yuki was insinuating that you are a bad artist, Deidara. But that is a matter for a different time. Both of you – Tsunade's office." Twin slips of paper appeared in his hand. "And don't even think about ditching, I'll be calling down there in two minutes." All of this was said calmly. His face didn't get red, and there was no indication that he was angry.

"What? Why, hm?" Deidara wanted to know.

"For acting like five-year-olds."

"I wasn't acting like a five-year-old, hm!" Deidara shouted indignantly.

"Neither was I!" Yuki added, standing.

"Was too, hm!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Not!"

"Too, hm!"

"N –"

"Enough!" Cinna thrust out the slips. "Tsunade's office. _Now."_

Okay, _now _he looked a little pissed.

Yuki glared at Deidara for another two seconds, then broke eye contact and took the slip. She left the room and headed to the office, Deidara footsteps behind her.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Shizune sighed. "Back again, I see. Well, sit, the both of you."

Yuki glanced behind her – Deidara stood behind her, fuming. She narrowed her eyes but said nothing, settling into the chair outside the office. The blond took the seat one over from hers.

The two sat in sulking silence for – though neither of them could tell – exactly one minute and thirty six seconds.

Shizune poked her head out. "Cinna called. Come in, Ms. Tsunade's waiting for you."

Yuki stood. _Why does she add the 'Ms.'? Half the people here already just call her 'Tsunade'…hell, that how _half _the teachers here work!_

But she left the realm of her thoughts when she entered Tsunade's office. It was a mess, as usual, with a bookshelf stuffed beyond capacity claiming the wall behind her desk. The carpet was a soft moss green color, and the walls were tan. The faint scent of alcohol hung in the air. _Jeez, you'd think someone would say something about the principal practically having a keg in her office…_

"Sit." The word was a sharp command and had its desired effect on both teenagers.

The woman laced her hands in front of her mouth. "I thought that I wasn't going to have to go over this again. Apparently, I was wrong."

"Hey, she started it, hm!"

"Did not!"

Did too, hm!"

"Did not!"

"Did t –"

"ENOUGH."

Both teens shut up. Yuki was having a sense of déjà vu.

The blonde woman, however, was massaging her temples. "Cinna wasn't lying when he said that the two of you were acting like kindergarteners…" she mumbled, then: "What is it this time?"

"I don't know what it is _this _time," Yuki said, "But _last time –_"

"Will you shut up about that, hm? It was _art –_"

"It was a freakin' explosion!"

"My point exactly, hm!" Deidara sounded all too satisfied. Yuki seethed. "You BLEW UP my PAINTING!"

"And my theory was correct, hm, the pigments made the explosion look pretty!" *

"I spent _two freakin' semesters _on that art!_" _Yuki said, twisting in her chair to better see the blond. Or slap him, whichever worked out better.

"It wasn't _art _until _I _got to it, hm!"

Tsunade had sat there the entire time, a faintly amused expression on her face. But they were _highschoolers, _for God's sake. This was getting ridiculous.

"_Enough!" _she said again. The teens froze, their heads snapped in her direction.

She narrowed her eyes at them. "I've seen the two of you in my office in your two years here more than _any other students._ I am getting tired of it, and I know that you are too. So allow me to be frank." She had captured their attention now, she could tell. "If I get _one _bad report from Cinna – from blowing up artwork to sabotaging the clay supply – not only will we be talking expulsion but I promise that will also be pulled from art as an elective _permanently._"

Now _that _hit them where she wanted to – hard, deep, and close to the heart. Yuki bit her lip, and Deidara managed to look even _more _sullen, if that was possible.

_And it's the pulling from the art program, not expulsion, that's making them behave. Talk about messed up priorities. _

As she watched them, the proverbial light bulb flickered on in Tsunade's head. Evil smirk hidden by her hands, Tsunade said, "In fact, the two of you are lucky I'm not pulling you from the program now!"

Both of the teens froze. "You wouldn't, hm," Deidara stated, a little boldly.

"Don't push me, boy." Tsunade warned. "In fact, I think I have the perfect punishment for you."

"Please don't take me out of art!" Yuki said. _Please don't please don't please don't! Whatever you do, just don't take me out of – _

"I'm not going to do that…as a first resort, anyway." Tsunade said. "No; I have something better in mind." She met the eyes of the now curious teenagers. "I assume that you are aware of the annual Fire Country Art Contest?"

Deidara snorted. "Of course, hm."

"Contest," Yuki said skeptically. "What contest?"

Deidara gave her a look like she had asked what a color wheel was. "You really _do _live under a rock, don't you, hm?"

Tsunade shot him a warning look and said quickly, "It's held once a year, in the spring, available to all young artists in the region. The artist is given a theme and certain requirements; the artwork is judged, and the artists win money for themselves _and _the art department at their school." She paused and allowed this to sink in. She rummaged around in her drawer and produced a pamphlet. "Here it is."

"How does this tie into out punishment?" Yuki asked, taking the paper.

Tsunade smiled, and noticed that as she did, both students paled. "The two of you must work together, and place in the contest. I will have Cinna supervise your work and –"

"You expect _me _to work with _him?" _

"Hold on a sec, hm!"

Tsunade held up a hand. Her mind was made up. "Yes, I do. This is what the two of you will do, to make up for the time I've wasted smoothing over your petty disputes! And if I get so much as _half _a bad report from Cinna, so help me you will be pulled from the art program so fast you won't know what hit you!"

Both teens deflated, swallowed, and nodded, all in an uncharacteristically meek manner. Despite their thoughts, their disagreements, their sheer hatred for one another, they didn't argue back. It wasn't their fault if their sense of self-preservation outweighed their hatred. Not by much, but by enough.

Yuki's shoulders slumped. _Dammit, _she thought wryly,_ When the Devil took my soul, I thought that at least I'd have _sold _it. Now it's been stolen. _She shook her head and glanced at her now-artistic…_colleague. Not partner. _He was slumped in his chair, eyes slits, muttering to himself.

Yuki sighed and resigned herself to a very unpleasant couple of months.

_Oh, joy. The devil now has my soul and I have to work with his advocate. _

**So, whatddya think? Should I continue**? **Good, terrible, okay, insert-other-adjective-here? Please, click the pretty blue button and let me know!**

***Do NOT try this at home. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two Status: GO! **

**^-^ So, Chapter two is up and running! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's appreciated like you don't even know...*gives those who reviewed a cookie***

**Anyway. Reviews are encouraged, if you didn't get that. **

**But anyway...**

**Disclaimer: Is Sasuke dead? Is Itatchi alive? Is Deidara alive? Do I own Naruto? Yea, that's what I thought. I own Yuki, and Cinna. **

**Off and Onward!**

**xxxxxxx**

Cinna entered the door to reveal a pair of teenagers who looked prepared to kill each other.

"You put _tape _in my _hair!_" Yuki seethed, hands on her hips indignantly. Deidara was doubled over, clutching his crotch.

"That's no reason to kick a guy, hm!" he gasped.

"Yea, it is. I mean, who _does _that?"

Deidara muttered something inaudible. Cinna watched the scene with mild amusement, until he remembered that he would have to be the one to deal with them.

Almost immediately his amusement turned into exasperation.

He cleared his throat, twice. The first time he went unnoticed, and they continued to bicker. The second time, heads snapped in his direction in eerie unison.

"Now," he said in a carefully measured voice, "If you're finished with the sophomoric violence, we can continue." He strode to the front of the room and wrote 'lights' on the board. "Sit," he commanded, turning around.

They sat.

He took a minute to survey them individually. Deidara was regarding him lazily, pointedly not looking at Yuki. He did one of those hair-flip things that almost every teenage boy with long hair did and blinked.

_He looks inattentive, but I'll be that he's a genius. _

Yuki was resting her head on her hand, staring at the word on the board. She frowned in though, fingers tapping on the desk.

_The cogs are turning in her head…_

"Lights," he said. "That's the theme for the contest. You also need to write a short explanation on your piece and how it ties into the theme. Other than that, the sky's the limit."

"We are _not _blowing something up," Yuki said immediately.

"Hey I didn't say – and why not, hm? It fits in _perfectly _with lights!" Deidara protested.

Yuki rolled her eyes. "I like blowing crap up just as much as the next guy, but if you expect me to work on a piece of art and then blow it up, you've got another thing coming."

Deidara shot her a look. Cinna sighed and held up a hand for silence.

It went ignored.

"Stupid girlie!"

"Who are you calling 'girlie!'"

"You, hm!"

"Whatever, man-lady."

"WHAT?"

"You heard m –"

"Enough." Cinna packed as much force as he could into that one word. The room fell silent.

"Done? Good. I will tolerate _none _of that while I'm supervising you. This is out of my time and yours, and I have no intention of wasting it." He looked at each student in turn. "So, lights. Any ideas? And, please, put a _spin_ on things. Don't just go with whatever comes to your head first – give it some perspective. Now, anything – Yuki?"

"Well, we could have some thin parchment paper or rice paper or whatever all done in ink with lights behind it?" she wrinkled her nose after she said it, as if realizing how lame it sounded.

"Good idea, but I'll bet that they've seen that. Deidara?" Cinna turned to the boy.

"We could incorporate fire," he suggested. "Burn some things, have a little bit of a pyrotechnic display, hm." He flicked his hair out of his face. "Better than certain…_clichés, _hm."

Cinna answered him quickly, mainly because Yuki looked like she was about to strangle the boy. "Deidara, where is the relevance in that? The art_work?_" Cinna shook his head. "C'mon, _think._ Lights. You have _so much _to work with."

Yuki's finger drumming became more intense. "What…hmm…didn't that one French guy – Monet, I think – use light? Like hardcore? Even when he was going blind?"

Cinna was faintly impressed. "Yea, Claude Monet. An Impressionist. What're you thinking?"

Yuki shrugged, but he saw the glint in her eye – she had a half-formed idea. "Nothing yet, just throwing things around."

"Some help that does us, hm," Deidara muttered. Yuki clenched her fist and kicked him under the table but said nothing.

Cinna sighed. "Alright. Brainstorming time. Lights. What does that mean to you?"

"Shadows," Yuki said, almost at the same time Deidara said, "Fire."

"Good!" Cinna said. An idea had popped into his mind, and he was wondering if the two students had caught on. "Shadows. Fire. Where do you want to go from there?"

"Fire makes shadows…" Yuki muttered. She reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook, began jotting things down. "If we- hmm…"

Deidara rolled his eyes and peered over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Yuki ignored him and continued writing.

Deidara rolled his eyes again. "That'll never work, hm."

Yuki put her arm over her work defensively. "And why not?"

"Because," he said, as if talking to a very small child, "I can guarantee you that the clay will crack, hm."

"….Go away. It's just an idea. No one asked you." Yuki turned and narrowed her eyes. Deidara _humphed _and took a step back, not taking his eyes off Yuki's book. "You want to do – hmm. Girlie may have a point…" he furrowed his brow.

"See where I'm going, genius? I'm pretty sure that we can glaze the clay, or just use metal or something, it was never specific…"

"It might work, hm…._maybe…_but I still think that something should explode!" Deidara muttered.

"Well if you have any better ideas…" Yuki drawled sarcastically.

Deidara snatched the book out from under her arm. "Maybe I do, hm!" he pulled a pencil from behind his ear and began making amendments, sketching. Yuki stood. "Hey!"

Cinna sighed. "Let me see that," he said, taking the sketchbook from the boy. Deidara humphed again and crossed his arms.

Cinna stared at the page before him. In a style he recognized as Yuki's, there was a set depicting a series of wrought-iron lampposts, random circles and squares that he assumed meant something in her mind, and basic details like stars and fire drawn in. In a different, more pronounced style were cross-outs, more detail done below the streetlamps, more 'fire' and numerous birds drawn in.

He was impressed, even if he didn't understand it.

He set it down on his desk. "Care to explain…?"

"It's a set, right? With lampposts and stuff…and if we have fire burning in the lampposts, have some silhouettes and stuff…" she shrugged. "I'm not sure."

Deidara rolled his eyes. "Please, hm. We can keep the lampposts, with fire, but I think it'd be cool if we had a sculpture and – "

"We are _not_ making a bomb," Yuki said with an exasperated sigh.

Deidara shot her a dirty look. "Let me finish, hm! Anyway, if we design the sculpture to be painted, then set parts of it on fire, make certain parts pop and others fade…" he grinned. "It could work."

"What happened to the clay cracking, hmmm?" Yuki narrowed her eyes.

Deidara waved that off. "Just 'cause it's a sculpture doesn't mean it has to be _clay,_ hm_."_

Now Cinna was _really_ impressed, but even more confused. And exasperated. "You," he said, pointing to Yuki, "Are obsessed with this 'silhouette' idea. And you," he gestured to Deidara, "Are all hung up on the pyrotechnics. So, here's a wonderful idea: combine them."

Yuki frowned, and Deidara scoffed. "It _might _work…" Yuki muttered. "Actually…what do you think of painting a canvas, then setting a light behind it? Like designing it for that purpose? And having those all up around the set…with metal sculptures here and there…"

"And then the sculpture that's actually on fire is in the center, hm!" Deidara exclaimed, eyes bright.

Yuki nodded. "Right! Then, you know, more stuff around, lotsa detail…" she trailed off and looked at Cinna. "Could it work?"

Cinna nodded. _How do they go from nearly killing each other to having their muses flow in the same direction?_

Kids.

"It could," he mused, absentmindedly running his hand over his stubble. "Okay. I want the both of you to go home and come up with two concept sketches and four thumbnails. Hand it in at the beginning of art tomorrow and meet here after school. We'll take it from there. And, please," he said, amusement gleaming in his eyes, "Try not to kill each other in the meantime."

Deidara huffed and Yuki grinned sardonically. "No promises," she said.

Cinna shook his head. "Git. You and I both have places to go."

He watched them go and shook his head. Despite how they were able to merge their ideas, something told him that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

_We have a long way to go._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**So, whatchya think? I apologize that it's kinda short, but I have to study hardcore for the up-and-coming midterms, so yea -.-**

**Questions, comments, concerns, criticism, a series of randomadjectives? Click the review button and let me know! ^.^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey lovelies! Chapter three is UP! **

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! It means a lot! *less than three***

**This one is a bit longer than the last; just as an FYI! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. **

**Off and Onward!**

Yuki walked into the art room the next day, two concepts and four thumbnails all in her sketchbook. She took her seat and put her head down, since Deidara wasn't in yet.

More students filtered into the room, some chattering, others sketching furiously for whatever reason. Then _he _came in. Yuki mentally braced herself, but he sat down in silence, a brooding look on his face.

_What? _

Well, if this was a permanent change, she wasn't going to start complaining.

The bell rang and Cinna stood at the front of the room. "Yesterday we went over theory, and now today I want to see that in action. You have the rest of today and half of tomorrow to complete something, _anything, _in any medium you wish. You'll be graded on effort, technique, and to a smaller degree, skill. Make a note of any references you used. I'd stay away from paints, since you're pressed for time. Begin."

It took five seconds for all the information to sink in, then the bustle began.

Yuki wished that she could use paints, but Cinna had a point; while it _was _possible, Yuki would rather have at least a week to complete a painting. Oh, well. She didn't mind sketching, and maybe if she colored it in…

She opened to a clean page in her sketchbook and waited for something to come to her.

By the time the period was almost over, she had a the tops of some gothic-like architecture, (referenced) and several gargoyles (her brainchildren) all on the page, half-done, and –

"What the _hell?" _She yelled, glaring at the blond next to her. Right across the middle of the page, a huge streak of clay was smeared; Deidara had dropped the piece that he was molding, and it landed right. On. Her. Piece.

"Sorry, hm!" Deidara said, not sounding sorry at all.

"Ugh!" Yuki tore the page out of her book, muttered, "Stupid frickin' kid, frickin messing up my work!"

"What did you say, hm!" Deidara turned to her, ball of clay raised threateningly. "D- "

"Yuki. Deidara. Is there a problem?" Cinna asked, with all the quiet threat of a snake.

"No, hm. Yuki just got clay all over her work, hm, but everything's fine!" Deidara said. Yuki was about to protest when he elbowed her and hissed, "Remember what Tsunade said?"

Yuki wanted to strangle him. Then Tsunade, and then Cinna for good measure. But she clenched her teeth and said nothing, every fiber of her being screaming to kick the blond where the sun didn't shine.

"Very well. Behave," he warned, the, went back to what he was doing.

Yuki glared at him. "I cannot believe you, moron!"

"Shut up! I can't afford to get in trouble again, hm!" Deidara hissed. "Look, girlie, hm, just shut up. I'm not in the mood to –"

"I knew you PMSed. It's the only explanation." Yuki said flatly. She was rewarded with him glaring at her. "I said _shut up._" He turned back to what he was doing and muttered something inaudible.

Yuki glared daggers at him for a minute longer then went back to her piece. She could recreate it, but nothing was _ever _as good as the original.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I swear he's PMSing constantly!" Yuki seethed.

Kaya laughed, and Zoë said, "Careful, kid, or you'll break the poor spork."

"I want to _stab him _with a spork!" Yuki growled. "God, he's so _annoying!" _

Zoë and Kaya looked at each other. "Spork?" Zoë said disapprovingly. "Please, use a rusty spoon. I thought I taught you better than that, freshman!"

"And you still call me freshman," Yuki muttered. "Which technically ended _five months _ago." She pointed at Zoë with her spork. "Maybe that's why I don't listen."

"'Sophomore' just doesn't have the ring to it," Zoë said simply. "What do you think, Kaya?"

"I think that the two of you are insane," Kaya said with a grin.

"Which is why you love us," Yuki chimed.

"Sure," Kaya muttered. "Anyway, who is the kid, anyway? I kinda feel bad for him, having to work with you." She dodged the spork that was thrown at her.

"That blond Deidara kid," Yuki muttered.

"Isn't he the kid that hangs around Sasori? With the speech impediment? I see him sometimes," Zoë said, taking fiddling with one of her piercings thoughtfully. She was in the art department, too; as a senior, she was in AP art. "He's not too bad, just annoying, like a fly on the wall."

"Or a hole in your head," Yuki muttered.

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad," Kaya said. "Hey, I live with all the annoying kids on the swim team."

"Please! You're practically captain. And you don't have to work with them." Yuki countered, wishing that she hadn't been so quick to use the spork as ammunition. "I don't care what they say, you're pretty much the best on the team."

"Maybe I _was," _she muttered, and Yuki dropped it. Kaya had torn some ligament in her knee and was out for last year's season; she had rejoined the team, but still had a ways to go before she reached her former level. Next year, Yuki knew, she'd be one of the only seniors on the team and would _definitely _be captain.

"Anyway," Zoë said, changing the subject, "_Is _it possible to spork someone's eyes out?"

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Yuki walked into the art room; Cinna and Deidara were already there.

"What do you call _that, _hm?" Deidara asked irritably, gesturing to Cinna's desk.

_PMS, I swear. _"That's a desk," Yuki said, setting her bag down. Cinna chuckled.

"Shut up!" "I mean these!" he gestured to her thumbnail sketches. "We've spent the last five minutes trying to decipher them, hm!"

Yuki rolled her eyes, and Cinna said, "Care to explain them?"

She nodded and gestured to one. "Well, firstly, you have it upside down."

"Like we could tell!" Deidara huffed. "God, you bring a new meaning to 'bad art,' hm."

"Coming from the guy who blows up his sculptures? Yea, that's what I thought," Yuki retorted. "See? Stage, fire, lights, lampposts. It's not rocket surgery."

"Whatever," he grumbled.

"Rocket surgery?" Cinna asked. Yuki shrugged. "You know, rocket science combined with brain surgery? A play on words – never mind," she muttered the last word when she was met with blank stares. "And these are crap anyway," she said. "Ignore them. The concept ones are better."

It was true; she had actually done the thumbnails in homeroom that day, because she had completely forgotten.

Cinna _mhmed _and shuffled the papers to come to all four of the concept sketches. He looked back at Yuki and Deidara. "Did you two do a collaboration?"

"Unless I was delusional."

"No, hm, she sucks!"

"Language, both of you!" Cinna reprimanded. "And I'm only asking because you're ideas are very similar, to an extent. Both of you wish to incorporate fire; Yuki has the idea of a set, while Deidara is concentrating more on a large clay sculpture. Now, we need to sit and brainstorm." He folded his hands and regarded them.

"Well…the set idea might take too long to create…and just one clay thing? Don't we want to go a little more elaborate?" She narrowed her eyes. Her idea had sounded good last night…then again she had been half asleep. "Like do we want something for the fire to cast shadows_ on_?"

"You have a point. Deidara?"

"What she said, hm. If we have a huge clay sculpture, maybe painted, hm, in the center –" Deidara began excitedly.

"With a sheet of thin paper, maybe done up in ink, in the background, fire around it –" Yuki continued, following his drift.

He nodded. "Yea, hm! And if we set the sculpture on fire…" In eerie unison, the kids turned to Cinna. "Can it work?" Yuki asked. Her mind was already piecing things together, how things would look, what could be done –

"Go for it!" Cinna said, gesturing to the room. "This place is yours till four thirty. Come up with a few ideas, but please, don't make the sculpture life-sized yet."

"Right, hm," Deidara muttered. He turned to Yuki. "Well? What should it be?" he asked, as if she should know.

_This kid's attitude is pissing me off! _"Light. So, what's 'light?' And if you say a feather so help me God…"

Deidara rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I'm not _you, _hm. I don't know, the sun?"

Yuki snorted. "Yea, that's not cliché."

Deidara glowered. "Well, if you're so smart, what's light then?"

Yuki shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to get too symbolic…"

"Yea, we wouldn't want that Goth friend of yours to put something Satanist in it," Deidara sneered.

Yuki fumed. "Shut up, Blondie! Zoë isn't Satanist! And so what if she's Goth!" she kicked him – in the shin this time. Insulting her was one thing, but her friends were an entirely different matter. And Zoë wasn't Satanist – not that Yuki knew of anyway. Zoë was cool, and had taken Yuki and Kaya under her wing. _Bastard! _

"Bitch," he hissed, holding his shin. He grabbed her arm. "I swear to God, if it weren't for saving my art career, I'd hit you, right now."

Yuki laughed bitterly. "What's hitting a _girl _half your size gonna prove?" she said. "Man, I'd never thought I'd say this, but I preferred you as an abusive idiot. This whole brooding thing isn't working out for you. Unless you plan to dye your hair and -"

"I'd calm it down if I were you," Cinna said, not looking up. "Tusnade has ears everywhere."

Growling, the two teens broke apart.

Yuki cleared her throat. "So," she said, in a forcible civilized voice, "Light."

"Light my fire," he said shortly.

_The Doors, _she thought, but opted out of saying that. "Limelight," she said in response.

"Light in the dark, hm."

"Light at the end of a tunnel," she quipped.

_Wait…light at the end of the tunnel… _

"Hold on," she said, grabbing a piece of paper.

"What happened to not being too symbolic, hm?" Deidara responded nastily. Yuki shrugged. "It's just an idea, calm down."

"Yea, whatever, hm," he muttered, and began molding a block of clay. "And can't we play around with light? Like mirrors and stuff, hm?"

Yuki nodded, and the proverbial light bulb was turned on…no pun intended.

"Yea, I think so…actually, I think you just might've gotten something, Blondie." Yuki grabbed a pencil and began sketching furiously. "See, if we have that, with fire burning at the end, and when the fire burns we have mirrors on in it…and then we can come up with some deep and intriguing name…and if we have the fire burning different colors…can you do that?"

Deidara stared at her. "Of course I can, hm. Now can you speak English?"

"See!" Yuki held out her paper. "A tunnel, fire at the end, mirrors inside it – and then if we have the fire burning different colors…"

"Not as many mirrors, hm. And I think that we should have a prism inside there, it'll reflect things a lot better and make the other colors for us, hm…and some sun catchers…this actually might work…" Deidara stared at it and frowned. "But you're dimensions are all off, hm…"

Yuki rolled her eyes in lieu of slapping him. "There's no way you can tell that from a rough sketch! And that's a rough sketch; it's not supposed to be exact!"

"Shut up. You're lowering the value of the fact that _you _came up with the plan," he said flatly. He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and began going over it in darker lines, making adjustments and adding the prisms. "Cinna! Would this be doable?"

Cinna looked up and beckoned them over. He peered at the sketch, and a wry smirk came over his features. "Now _that's _perspective."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Fin!**

**So, whaddya think? **

**Oh, and I was thinking about doing some segments in Deidara's POV. What do you guys think of that? o.o I think it'd be fun to try and write it through his eyes. XD **

**Let me know your thoughts! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four status: GO! **

**Thanks to everyone for the feedback! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, Lord of the Rings, or anything else mentioned. And for the last chapter, I don't own the Doors. **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Deidara sauntered into the art room the next day, sketchbook in hand. Cinna wasn't there yet, and neither was Yuki. He sat and waited, blowing his bangs out of his eyes, and sighed. He just wanted the week to be over already.

_Damn Thursdays…_they were such awkward days. At very end of the week, not as good as Fridays because you had plans, and more tiresome than Wednesdays because school was becoming a routine.

Cinna walked in, and nodded at him. "Is Yuki here?"

Deidara bit back a scathing retort of, _"Well, does it _look _like she's here?" _and said instead, "No, hm."

Cinna _mhmed _just as Yuki walked in. _Always late, dammit! I just want to get this over with…_

"Why are you always late, hm?"

She rolled her eyes. "I am never late or early, I arrive exactly when I mean to."

"Psycho," he muttered, so low only Yuki could hear it. She glowered at him as Cinna said dryly. "Not that I have any problem with Gandalf or Lord of the Rings, but we have some work to do."

"Right," Yuki said. "And I was thinking – if this tunnel thing is gonna be so big, won't it be a little bulky and hard to move? Not to mention getting the things _inside _the 'tunnel…'"

Cinna shook his head. "Everyone's a critic, huh?"

She shrugged. "Not a critic, just a critical eye."

_Will you stop speaking in riddles! _"Look, we have a limited time, hm. Let's just go with it. I already have the measurements, hm." Deidara pulled out a piece of paper. "It doesn't have to be that big. Really just a hole, hm, with some mirrors and stuff. Probably two wide and three long, or something along those lines, hm."

He was proud of himself for figuring that out.

"Okay, Deidara, that works. Now, you mentioned mirrors and prisms and fire; they will all come in later. Right now I want you to focus on the sculpture itself, and what you plan on painting on it." Cinna nodded at Yuki. "Now, I'm assuming that there's a sort of unwritten rule that Deidara's going to sculpt and Yuki's going to paint?"

Deidara nodded. "Like I'd let her touch the clay, hm."

Yuki _pffted. _"This kid paints like a left-handed two-year-old."

Cinna sighed in exasperation. "At least we're in agreement," he muttered. "Alright. Now, any ideas as to designs?"

Deidara shrugged. "Stuff having to do with light?"

"I was thinking stuff like that – stars and fire and sunsets and stuff. Or we could go really abstract, you know? With like warm colors and bright blues…like a supernova!"

_Supernova…hmm…_ "Isn't that when a star explodes, hm?"

She nodded. "What do you think? Abstract or definite?"

Deidara shrugged. "Whatever, hm. A little bit of both."

Cinna gestured to the room. "Deidara, come up with a model, done to scale. Yuki, get yourself a canvas and start painting."

Deidara went to do his work. He liked clay, liked how it could be molded and control and, when given the proper amount of gunpowder, blown up. Working with clay was relaxing and blowing it up was exciting – the perfect combination, in his not-so-humble opinion.

"What do you think of this?" Yuki demanded, jerking him out of his peace. He glared at her, muttered something under his breath, and was tempted to say, _a piece of shit. _

But it was pretty good, he had to admit. So instead he said, "What the hell is it supposed to be?"

Yuki narrowed her eyes. It was disturbing, how they were completely devoid of all color. "What the hell does it look like, moron?"

"Like a two-year-old took their finger paint to a canvas, hm!" he said, because she was irritating him.

His words, however, had the opposite effect that he'd thought they'd have. "Okay. So what do you think of making this the main design? Like, if we have this throughout, then have other stuff popping? Or maybe just this, and some color…" she was talking more to herself than him.

The painting had a very light yellow center – the color spiraled out into arms, and gradually grew darker as it reached the edges of the canvas. _Considering that it was done in maybe thirty minutes, that's pretty good…_

He may not like Yuki, but he could respect her art.

She didn't need to know that, though.

"It could work, hm," he said. "But we'll want to have some other stuff inside it, right? And you'd have to find out where you want to put it. Like, hm, have it centered or off-center, how it's gonna look with the fire and stuff."

Yuki nodded. "Right, Blondie. I have some other ideas…I'm not sure how this one's gonna turn out." she frowned at it.

"What's your problem, hm," Deidara said in exasperation. "You were proud of it a second ago!"

At this she shrugged and arched an eyebrow. The combination was enough to drive Deidara insane. He was positive that she knew it, too. "Your point is…? It might not work is all I'm saying."

Deidara sighed again and cast his eyes to Cinna. The man was watching all of this with an amused expression. "What, hm?"

Cinna just chuckled. "Yuki, start drawing all of the ideas for designs you have – use colored pencil or pastels. Deidara, go back to your clay." He went back to his work, and the teenagers did as instructed.

Deidara narrowed his eyes and scowled at the clay.

He _hated _Thursdays.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Deidara's father, it seemed, also hated Thursdays. He was especially grumpy on Thursdays, for reasons Deidara couldn't figure out for the life of him.

Deidara walked inside, mumbled a greeting, then went upstairs. Halfway up the steps, his father said, "Where were you?"

Deidara paused, ad weighed his answer. "I had an assignment, hm. It needed to be finished." His father could smell a lie a mile away, so Deidara tried to stick as close with the truth as possible.

Deidara's dad looked a lot like him: slender, slightly above average height, with blond hair and blue eyes. Their personalities, even, were alike, insofar as they both were rather hotheaded. But their interests and thoughts about what Deidara should spend his time doing, were completely different. His father had this idea that Deidara should be into sports or something like that – not art. When it was clear that Deidara wasn't into any of that, save for the play fighting that all teenage males engaged in, he stepped back. He tolerated Deidara's artistic endeavors, but tolerate was all.

And Deidara would rather not think about the time when Tsunade had to call his father in when he had nearly blown a hole through the school roof.

Hey, it wasn't his fault that the Chem lab was left unsupervised.

"Call next time," he commanded. Deidara nodded and retreated to his room. He glanced at the picture of his mother and sighed. He couldn't help but wonder that maybe, if she was around, she'd understand. His father had said that she had been into art.

He sighed and cleared a spot on his desk. He, like many other artists, believed in clutter. Or, that's what a thirteen-year-old Deidara had said when his dad had hounded him to clean his room. Deidara believed that the assorted clothes, books, and miscellaneous items helped him concentrate.

The subject had never been brought up again.

He began molding a clay bird, if only for the purpose of calming himself – and then, maybe, making it explode later, but he was unhappy with the results.

He smashed it back into a ball and put it away before flopping down onto his bed.

_Damn Thursdays…_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**Sorry it's so short...and slightly filler-ish. Just needed to establish some stuff. x) **

**Comments, questions, concerns, criticisms? Some other form of feedback? Please, let me know. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad you like it! **

**Disclaimer: Do you think I own Naruto? In that case, your village called. They want their idiot back.**

**Off and Onward!**

"Give it back!"

"Why don't you make me?"

"Maybe I will, hm!"

"Go for it – argh!"

The words were Cinna's only warning. Dreading what he might find, he opened the art room door and stepped inside.

The sight was somewhere between comical and alarming: Deidara had his arm around Yuki's neck; the girl was lifted a good couple inches off the ground. She was kicking her legs and trying to pry his arm off her with her one hand, and in the other she gripped a slip of paper.

_Are they for real? _Cinna sighed, figuring that it was time for him to intervene. _I guess _this _is what Tsunade meant by 'out of control.'_

"ENOUGH!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Almost as soon as the word was out of Cinna's mouth, Deidara dropped Yuki like a hot coal. She landed on her feet and, before she could turn around and make him forever a crippled virgin, Yuki caught the look on Cinna's face and was paralyzed like a rat caught in a snake's stare.

_Way to go, Blondie. _

Cinna was absolutely _livid._

"I don't know what was going on," Cinna said in a carefully measured, right-on-the-brink-of-hysterics voice, "And frankly, I don't care. You're walking on _thin _ice and it's only getting thinner. You want to throw your art careers out the window, be my guest. But I refuse to tolerate anything less than high school behavior. The two of you are acting like kindergarteners. Hell, my five-year-old _niece _doesn't even act like that. So I am going to give you a choice. Don't speak, just shut your mouth and _listen for once._"

Yuki glanced at Deidara out of the corner of her eye, and she prayed that she didn't look as scared as he did. She had never seen Cinna loose his cool like this, had never thought that people like Cinna _could _lose their cool. It really should be against the law or something.

"You can either get along and continue to study art in my class or you can get the hell out of here. No one is forcing the two of you to work together – that is _your call_. Do you understand?"

Petrified, the two teenagers could only nod.

"Good. Now I am going to go home. The two of you are going to go home. I am not going to waste any more time on this project before I know that the two of you are serious. You can give me your answer on Monday."

Now, if Yuki was stupid or suicidal, she would have argued and said that this was the most serious thing she had done in her life and that Deidara was just a hindrance, a shit stain on the underwear of artistic society. But she didn't and instead lowered her eyes and took her dismissal, retorts on the tip of her tongue.

But of course, as soon as they were out of earshot of the enraged teacher's withering glare, she took the time to voice them.

"Way to go, genius!" Yuki hissed.

Deidara rounded on her. "Me? That was all _you." _

"_What? You _were the one who decided to _man handle _me – "

"If you had just given me the damn paper, hm, this wouldn't be a problem!" Deidara huffed.

"And now because of you," Yuki continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm royally screwed!"

"Hey! You're not the only one whose gonna get it bad, hm!" Deidara yelled. What was _up _with her? So freakin' – grr! Words couldn't even describe it. "So just SHUT UP!"

That did it for Yuki. She shoved him in the chest, hard. "_Asshole!" _

He grabbed her wrists. "Bitch."

"Let _go _of me," she hissed, eyes narrowing to slits, wrenching her wrists free.

"Ladies!" someone corrected sharply.

Both teens turned. Shizune was striding down the halls, the sound of her clacking heels echoing in the empty hallways. "What is this? I have never seen two young ladies act in– oh. Deidara – and Yuki."

To Deidara's annoyance and Shizune's chagrin, Yuki began laughing, saying things like, 'Oh God, that's a good one!' and 'Told ya you look like girl,' and, 'Even Shizune!'

That was it for Deidara. Fuming, he grabbed the paper out of Yuki's hand and stormed down the hallway. He momentarily forgot why he even wanted it – he smoothed it out and discovered that it was a pastel drawing of something similar to the painting Yuki had done the other day.

_She didn't want me to see this? What the fuck? Damn her..._

God! All he had wanted to do was see the damn paper!

_Freakin' girl! Why the hell…grr…_his thoughts were hardly coherent as he stomped down the hall. But by the time he got to his locker, everything that Cinna had said had fully sunk in. He stopped and felt his stomach drop.

_I'm so screwed._

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Yuki walked on eggshells for the entire duration of the weekend. She was pissed as hell at the world, to the point where she couldn't really do _anything _except walk around angrily, listening to her iPod. She preferred walking at night, (less of the whole no-pigment-must-wear-prescription-sunscreen thing) but it was mid-January and too cold.

_Gragh! I can never win, can I? Damn him! _

She was stressing over Monday – and Yuki _never _got stressed out. _How the hell am I supposed to face Cinna? And what if Blondie backs out? Then he screws the both of us over! And there's no way in Indigo that I'm gonna beg _him _to stay with it! Hell, I don't even think that _I _want to stay with it! Fuck art, I'm going to Narnia!_

She had told Zoë and Kaya the predicament. Kaya had laughed at the whole 'man-handling' part and said something along the lines of, "Way to go, Yuki." Zoë shook her head. "Freshman," sh declared, "You have officially done the impossible: Pissed the ever-mellow Cinna off. You should be dead. Why are you not dead? Freshman, you have avoided death."

Yuki let her head fall against the table they had been sitting at. Zoë was never coherent without her coffee, something she had been deprived of this morning. She turned to Kaya imploringly.

The blonde girl shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Yuki. It seems like your pride's getting in the way."

"_My pride?" _Yuki was incredulous. "That has nothing to do with it. It's _his_ presence."

Zoë tilted her head. "Keep telling yourself that, Yuki. You have a pride like none other – except maybe me, the Great and Prideful Zoë."

Kaya sighed. "Go get your coffee, Zo. Yuki, do you really hate him that much? To give up any form of art career?"

"It's not my entire career," Yuki mumbled. "I can still take it in college – "

In an odd moment of lucidity, Zoë shook her head. "Nopes, Freshman. Some colleges, maybe, but some won't look at you twice if you don't have a certain number of years in art. I mean, if you wanna major in it."

"Well what if I don't want to major in it?" Yuki snapped. Zoë backed off and promptly changed the subject.

Now it was Sunday night, and the thoughts were plaguing her mind.

She shook her head and turned up the music, trying not to think about it. Tomorrow was Monday. Her fate could be decided then.

Or she could just go to Narnia. That would work too.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Deidara trudged into school on Monday in a foul mood. He had gotten into an argument with his dad, _again, _his art career was practically in the hands of some scrawny little girl who he _despised, _and it was a _Monday. _The perfect combination to make him nasty…well, more so than usual.

And seeing a certain white-haired someone _right by his desk _as soon as he walked into the one class where he found solace – art – sent him down even further.

He sat down, and snarled, "What do you want, hm?"

She looked up from whatever she was doing to glare at him. "Did I _say _something, hmmm?"

Deidara didn't know if the tacked-on 'hmmm' was meant to mock him or not. Instead he said, "You're _at my desk." _

"No shit, Sherlock. I _sit _here," Yuki seethed, turning back to her work. "Not for long, though," she muttered to herself, then said something about Narnia.

That infuriated Deidara even more. "_What? _So you're just gonna give up, hm?" he sneered. "Damn the both of us?"

Her glare intensified. "Well, what do _you _want to do? Get into even deeper shit by attempting to do the impossible? Sorry, I have no intention of –"

"So you're just gonna let your art career go out the window, hm?" he pressed. "Cause there's no way in _hell _I'm doing _that._"

"I was thinking more along the lines of forcing the blame on you and throwing _your _art career out the window," Yuki said dryly. That wasn't what she was actually going to say, but she couldn't resist the sarcasm. _Someone _had to take the opportunity to make the comments, and if that someone was her then so be it.

_She would say that. _"Like _hell _I'll let that happen, hm," Deidara hissed, shoving her in the shoulder for emphasis. "And I swear, if you back out, I'll – "

"You'll _what?_" She countered. She didn't know _why _she was arguing, but she felt compelled to take the opposite side. "You hate working on this just as much as I do, and it's not like we're getting anywhere – "

"Shut up and stop being so – so – grr! We haven't even worked on it for a _week, _hm." Deidara rolled his eyes. "You're not gonna get immediate results, hm! So just _buck up _and _work on the damn thing." _

He clenched his teeth as the bell rang and Cinna sauntered in. Deidara braced himself for that cold treatment teachers specialized in, but Cinna treated them no differently than anyone else – which Deidara was grateful for.

Cinna gave the class the last ten minutes to do a speed sketch of the still life in the front of the room – assprted bottles and junk and a random fork. Two minutes into it, Yuki whispered, "Why are you so hell-bent on working yourself to pieces on the contest thing? I want to stay in art just as much as you do, but not at the cost of my sanity."

Deidara half-contemplated ignoring her, but instead he said, "I, unlike you, do not like to give up, hm, nor do I have the intention of being placed into art appreciation. And you're _already _insane."

That was half-true. He was _loathe _to give up art – one semester, maybe, but the rest of his high school life? Not a chance. And the competition part wasn't necessarily for the contest – it was more of a thing with his father. Deidara wasn't about to explain the predicament to his father, and if he suddenly transferred out of art, his dad would see it as a personal victory – a victory that Deidara wasn't going to let the man have.

"I don't _give up,_" Yuki hissed, not taking her eyes off the still life or her sketch paper. "I just don't like working with you and I don't even want to pursue a job as an artist so - "

"That's halfassery," Deidara accused sharply, "And I swear that I will make your life a living hell if you drop out of this, hm." What was _with _her? First day she was practically begging Tsunade to keep her in art – now she was fighting him on _every fucking detail. _

"You're sitting next to me in art; my life's _already _a living hell," she remarked. He frowned and in one smooth motion plucked the pencil out of her hand. "Oops," he sneered. _She doesn't know the half of it if she thinks _this _is bad. _What he 'did to her' on a normal basis was totally on instinct. What he could do if he _tried, _however…

Breathing sharply, Yuki said in a carefully controlled voice, "Give it back."

"Stay in the competition," he said.

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"Be – cause," he drawled, "You like art, hm."

She shrugged. "My absolute loathing of you overpowers my love of art." She reached over and took his pencil, which was lying unattended on his desk. "So nope."

Deidara had to resist the urge to hit her – _hard. _"What's your problem? Seriously, hm. Just do the damn thing. It's one semester, then hopefully when we win we'll use it to make sure we're not in any classes next year, hm." Deidara had thought long and hard over this and was pleased with himself. Now all he had to do was get Tsunade in on it.

Yuki exhaled sharply, but before she could say anything the bell rang and the assignments were being passed forward. She stood to leave with the rest of the class, but before she could go Cinna called them to the front.

"Yuki, Deidara," his voice was neutral, but they were still wary. "I'll take it that you have your answer?" He must've seen something on his face because he said, "Listen to me. I get the whole antithesis thing, really I do. But the two of you are exceptional artists. It would be, quite frankly, a waste of talent if you could not pursue some form of art, or if being kicked out of the art program here was a hindrance to you in the future. I know that college seems a million years away, but it's not. And," a corner of his mouth quirked up, "You muses work rather well together. Plus," now he was flatout _smirking, _Deidara swore, "We don't want to have to tell Tsunade, do we?"

"Nope," Yuki said almost immediately.

Cinna raised his eyebrows. "Nope as in we don't want to tell Tsunade or nope as in your dropping out?"

In an act of quick-thinking on Deidara's part, he said, "Nope as in we don't want to tell Tsunade, hm. She scares me." He added the last part for effect. Cinna seemed to buy it.

Already he was mentally preparing an argument for Yuki's counter argument, and was surprised when she shrugged and said nothing.

"So we are in agreement?" Cinna asked.

"I wouldn't call it that," Yuki muttered. "I like to think of it as a mutual slavery-binding contract."

Deidara rolled his eyes. "Call it what it is, hm."

"I just did," she said wryly.

"Thin ice," Cinna reminded them sternly. "Getting thinner."

"Right," Deidara drawled. "Because it wasn't thin enough to begin with."

**xxxxxxxxx**

**So? Whatchya think? Questions, comments, concerns? How is it going? Too fast, too slow? Is Yuki/Cinna/any other OC a mary-sue? PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THAT'S THE CASE SO IT CAN BE CORRECTED ASAP. _Thankyou. _**

**Until next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Back, with chapter six! **

**Here's too all you lovlies who review! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Saw. **

**Off and Onward.**

The rest of the month was rather routine. They would propose ideas, disagree, yell, get _yelled at, _come to an agreement, finalize it, then propose another idea. It was a vicious cycle, Cinna said, one that artists often got caught in – too many ideas and not enough outlets.

_Amen, _Yuki thought to that. So far, they stuck with their idea of a clay tunnel and fire and whatnot, but there were too many details to consider. She sighed and closed her sketchbook. _Time to head home. _

She was more tired, she knew, from staying up late jotting things down. She didn't care – Yuki was excited about this, dammit. Sure, she had a paper due and homework in nearly every subject tonight, but whatever. It'd get done.

_At least _he's _laid off, _she dared to think. It was true – the infamous blond only spoke to her when necessary and she could recall an occasion or two when they had had a (somewhat) normal conversation.

"Tomorrow," Cinna said, "I want the two of you to decide on a final scene. I want to be working on this by February. Believe me when I say that three months is less time than you think."

Yuki nodded and Deidara _hmmed. _She called a farewell over her shoulder and left, mentally groaning at the thought of everything that awaited her at home. She sighed.

She wouldn't say that she had become _friends_ with Deidara, but over the course of the month (and under the threat of Cinna) they had gotten past the bodily harm and insults at every other word. They had actually (gasp!) walked home together a number of times – apparently, they lived a few blocks away. (The discovery hadn't boded well with either, at first. But walking in the same direction as someone for fifteen minutes without actually walking _with _them is awkward, particularly when you know the person.)

And avoidance really wasn't an option, considering the nature of both art class and the competition.

"Hey!"

Yuki stopped, just before the door, and said, "Yes, Blondie?"

Deidara frowned at the nickname but instead said, "Which are you thinking of doing, hm?"

Yuki shrugged. "I like the idea with the mirrors and fire, but nix the birds." She turned to continue walking, and he fell into step beside her, the buckles on his boots clinking as he walked. "Okay," he said thoughtfully. "But what about the wires?"

"Keep the wire sculptures," she said finally. That was yet another idea they had come up with over the last month. "It'll look cool silhouetted against whatever background we have."

"Canvas background?" He prodded. Yuki nodded. "Yea. What are we going to paint on it, though?"

Yuki shrugged. "I have some ideas – the original swirl-thing, maybe with some featherlike designs, eastern dragons for show – it'll come together…I think."

They continued walking. Yuki stuffed her hands in her pockets and glanced up at the sky – dull gray, like a lead blanket. "Wonder if it's gonna snow," she mused.

Deidara shrugged. "Probably, hm. According to the weatherman." His breath formed small white clouds in the air in front of him. It was bitingly cold out, and dammit, he should've worn something that wasn't a thin hoodie.

Yuki wrinkled her nose. "Every time I listen to the weatherman he blatantly lies to me."

Deidara chuckled. "Right, hm. But it's _freezing _and cloudy. Two major components that factor into snow."

Yuki shrugged. "I don't do weather." She gestured around at the remnants of snow that littered the streets and sidewalks. "They said it wasn't going to snow at all over Christmas and we wind up with seventeen inches. They _lie._"

In the back of her mind, Yuki wondered why Deidara had suddenly become so talkative, but she dismissed it when the sound of a car revving past startled her. Her gaze was drawn in the direction of the speeding vehicle, but there, in that instant, she saw it.

It was instantaneous, but it was beautiful. In all shades of yellows, oranges, and reds so deep they threatened to be mistaken for purple, was a phoenix, rising from a fire painted so vibrantly that it almost looked like the car itself was on fire…

It was otherworldly, gorgeous, and spoke of different times when things reveled in the shadows cast by fire.

And then the car was off, but the impression it left on the two young artists was lasting.

"Damn…" Yuki murmured to herself. Deidara nodded. "See, that's true art, hm."

Yuki narrowed her eyes. _Not this again. _"What the hell do you mean?"

"There in an instant and gone just as quickly – all the more beautiful because it's fleeting," he explained triumphantly. Yuki rolled her eyes. Much as she appreciated the work, she felt the need to make a counterpoint to his point. "You're twisted. How the hell is that art? I mean," she said, "For all you know, that could be some airbrushed, ten minute work. Nothing special."

Deidara smirked. "But I don't know that, now do I, hm? All that matters is that it was there, beautiful while it lasted, and then gone."

Yuki rolled her eyes. "I bet you support Photoshop too."

"No," Deidara said it so quickly that Yuki had a feeling he was adamant on the subject. "Photoshop requires little to no talent, hm. It's _cheating._ Not true art either way, mind you, but still _cheating. _I can respect good work, hm. Good, _traditional _work."

"Just as long as you're not too passionate there," Yuki remarked dryly.

Deidara absentmindedly adjusted his bangs. "It pisses me off, hm."

"Note to self: use Photoshop whenever possible," Yuki said with a sardonic smirk. Deidara whacked her upside the head.

"The hell was that for?" Yuki growled indignantly. Deidara responded as he dodged a kick aimed for his shin.

"For trying to piss me off and suggesting wasting talent on a piece of technology a second grader could use, hm."

Yuki's eyebrows shot up, and before she could say anything, he said, "Just take the goddamn compliment, hm."

"Actually, I was going to say that you're pretty old school," Yuki said, filing the compliment remark for later use.

"Digital art is the _devil,_" he said, shifting his backpack.

"Or you just suck at it," Yuki pointed out. Judging from his reaction, she was probably right. "Don't get me wrong, I hate it when people upload work that's not theirs or low-class and change it to be awesome and then going around like their the shit. But uploading a sketch that's yours and digitally painting it…" she shrugged. "I don't know. I've never used it. I prefer my canvas, thank you."

"It sucks," he muttered. "For talentless nimrods, hm. My point was that it's the _impression _it leaves on you, not the actual _work itself._"

"Right," Yuki drawled, "And that's why you blow up every single one of your sculptures. And my painting." She arched an eyebrow.

Deidara resisted the urge to force the aforementioned eyebrow down. "No," he countered. "It makes you appreciate the work of art because it's only there for a short amount of time. And you were supposed to get over that, hm." He grinned. "But see! You appreciate the painting more because you no longer have it. You'll forever remember it, and by default, me. Immortality through transience." He sounded satisfied with himself. Actually, it was the first time he had clearly stated his philosophy through (intelligent) words.

Yuki blinked at him, surprised at the depth of his words. "Okay, be that as that may be, your still sick. I mean come on, Jigsaw anyone?"

"What?" he asked, slightly affronted. _She's comparing me to the guy from the Saw movies? What? _

"Uh, yea. The whole point of what Jigsaw did was to make people appreciate their life now that there was a limited time on it, or that there was a chance to lose it. Your philosophy isn't all that different."

"Yea it is, hm. I'm using _art, _not _life. _Big moral difference there," he countered. "I don't do gore."

"It's the principle of the thing," she said easily. "And it's twisted."

"You're just like Sasori," he muttered, in a way that sounded like an insult.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Blondie. So, what were you thinking of? For the scene."

"Stick with mirror and tunnel, have wires on the sides, fire, paint. The whole she-bang."

"Mhm," Yuki said, stepping carefully around a patch of ice. The lapsed into silence for the rest of the way until she had to turn right and he kept going for another block. "See ya," she said without turning back.

He raised a hand and continued walking. "Later, hm."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You're delusional."

"I'm _visionary._"

"That's what they call – "

"Yuki," Cinna warned, "It would be wise not to finish that."

To everyone's surprise, Yuki's mouth clamped shut. "It's not gonna work, though," she muttered more to herself.

Deidara rolled his eyes. Trust her to be against this. "It'd be so cool, though! Think about it – in all its glory for a moment, then BAM! Gone, in an instant. Beautiful but limited, hm!"

"I am not painting a 200lb, five foot tall phoenix for the sole purpose of you making it go boom," Yuki deadpanned. "It's a good idea, but…"

"I'm with Yuki on this one, Deidara," Cinna said. "Since we already have a plan, an idea, and I'm not sure…" he opened a drawer on his desk and read from the flyer, "Art scene will be put on display at the Museum until September thirtieth." He looked up. "You can't put that on display."

Deidara sat back and crossed his arms. "Uneducated poseurs," he muttered under his breath. Yuki's eyes narrowed but she said nothing, instead rolling up the sleeves of her flannel and tugging on a smock. "For the background, though," she said, "A phoenix would look cool. Flames at the bottom, the bird itself center, its wings taking up most of the canvas…" she began sketching on the canvas before her. They had taken two desks and pushed them to the front of the room and faced each other in a semblance of a triangle. "Like this."

Deidara blinked. In the span of all but two minutes, Yuki had gotten basic lines and bubbles for the bird down with waves that he could only assume were flames at the bottom.

"It's okay, but," he said, standing and grabbing a pencil, "You have the wing joints _all wrong, _hm."

"And you would know because…?" Yuki drawled. He glared at her as he began correcting it. "I freakin' _sculpt _them, hm," he said defensively. "And you have it wrong."

She _did. _It was close, Deidara supposed, but not nearly close enough. She'd find that out _after _she went through all the trouble of adding the feathers in. And what the hell did all the lines mean?

"Here," he said, thrusting it to her. "Now here's hoping you paint better than you sketch."

"Here's hoping that you sculpt better than you handle a pencil," Yuki retorted, sighing. "I mean _honestly. _Has anyone ever told you the basic rule of sketching?"

"Use a 2B pencil?" Deidara ventured sarcastically. "And no one cares about sketching, hm."

Yuki rolled her eyes. "_No dark lines,_ moron."

Xxxxxxxxxx

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to all you lovelies who've reviewed! ^-^ **

**Hm, let's see what I DON'T OWN: Metallica, Master of Puppets, Type O Negative or their album mentioned, Samual Adams, _The Outsiders, _and _That Was Then, This Is Now. _There's probably something else, too, and I DON'T OWN IT. I also don't own Naruto. ^-^**

**Here it goes! **

Yuki narrowed her eyes at the scenery as they flew by in the car. Her mother had been going off again on something or another, and her father was meeting an old 'drinking buddy' at the bar. Yuki chose the lesser of two evils and accompanied him.

She hated that, when they'd flip off at each other. She'd retreat to her room and get yelled at later, or she'd be somewhere else in the house and get yelled at amidst the fighting and screaming.

At least there were no little siblings to deal with. _That _would've been worse.

Her father glanced over at her. "I'm sorry," he said, like he always did. "But she's absolutely insane."

He used to say those words with more exasperation or anger than the flat acceptance. "Hm," Yuki responded, not bothering to justify that with a response. Neither of them was completely free of fault. It was a vicious cycle, she knew – her mother was _very_ touchy and a little bit of a micromanager, and her father was easygoing and a little bit –sometimes a lot of a bit – an insensitive drunk. After a fight he'd _get _drunk then do something to set her mother off.

And she was caught in it all.

He parked the truck just outside the bar – some old place called Back in Black – and stepped inside, Yuki following in tow. She tugged her hoodie against herself as they entered, treating it like a little kid would a security blanket.

The interior of the bar screamed '80s throwback' and 'former metal head' from the music playing – probably something by Metallica before they 'got bad' – to the black vinyl cushioned seats to the people inside it.

Her father glanced around for a second then headed to some blond guy who was nursing something stronger than beer.

"Kenji!" he said, clapping the man on his shoulder.

The other man grinned. "It's been awhile, Kyo. How's it going?" His voice was smooth, and he looked familiar, but Yuki couldn't pin it.

Yuki's father did that lopsided smile thing that he always did. "Same old shit." Yuki expected him to say something along the lines of 'wife is insane,' but he didn't. Instead, he turned to her and said, "Here – I don't want you wandering this part of the city alone at night, so – "

"Hold up," Kenji said, "You can't be Yuki?"

Yuki blinked. "Am I supposed to know you?"

The blond guy chuckled. "Please. I knew you since you were – "

"What are _you _doing here?"

Yuki turned and rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me Blondie's going barhopping. Aren't you a little young for that?"

Deidara snorted. "Right. Like _you _could hold your liquor?" He was coming back from – what Yuki guessed – was the bathroom, donned in black jeans and some kind of graphic t shirt, hair in front of his one eye as always, the other rimmed in black liner.

Yuki's response was all bravado. "Wanna bet? We _are _in a bar, you know." Actually, she stayed as far away from the stuff as she could – it was _nasty, _in her not-so-humble opinion.

"Well I see you two know each other," Kenji remarked. Yuki turned back to him, then back to Deidara. _Oh! Damn they look alike – wait, my dad's friends with the guy who fathered _Blondie?

Kyo nodded, then said, "Deidara, right?"

Deidara nodded and shook her father's outstretched hand. "Yea, hm."

Her father turned away to order a Sam Adams, and Deidara said, "So you're stuck here too? Your dad?"

Yuki shrugged. " Yea. Guess so. It could be worse." _I could be at home. _

Deidara snorted. "How? We are – I swear, hm – less than five minutes away from some of the coolest stores in the city and we're _stuck at the bar._ And we can't even drink." He punctuated his frustration with an angry bang-adjustment.

Kyo was watching them with mild amusement. "How old are you, Deidara?" he asked suddenly.

"Sixteen."

"Do you have your phone on you?" he asked Yuki. Yuki nodded, knowing exactly where her father was going with this.

Like she had predicted, he turned to Kenji. "If they wanna go that bad, why not? Better than a gritty bar. Just stick together."

Kenji was more reluctant. "I don't know. Deidara's not very athletic, if that's where you're going…"

Deidara scowled and muttered something under his breath.

In response, Yuki's dad slipped a switchblade from his pocket to Yuki's hand. Yuki stuck it in one of the many pockets on her cargo pants. "And now they're armed." To Yuki, he said, "Don't use it. Call me if there's trouble, I'll be calling you sometime before eleven. Just stay away from Kensington and Sixth Street, okay? Oh, and don't let her get any tattoos." He directed the last part to Deidara.

Yuki grinned. "No promises!" she called over her shoulder as she grabbed Deidara's wrist and dragged him out of there.

"Finally," Yuki muttered once she was out, dropping his wrist and cracking her knuckles.

Deidara arched an eyebrow. "'Don't get any tattoos?'"

Yuki shrugged. "He has this idea that I'm going to go out and get one. I would, but I'm terrified of needles." She grinned. "That's also how we know I'm gonna stay away from the hard stuff."

"You're a psycho, hm," he said in exasperation. "But your dad's pretty chill."

Yuki shrugged. "He is, most of the time."

Deidara made a noncommittal sound and said, "C'mon, there's this store down here that's _awesome._"

Xxxxxxxxx

"Okay, I'll admit, that store with the dragon stuff was pretty cool," Yuki said as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Told you, hm. What time is it?" Deidara asked distractedly. He had practically dragged Yuki out of the last store when he saw _him._ This wasn't good – at all.

"Almost ten thirty," she said. "Why?"

He frowned. "Just asking, hm." He glanced behind him – there, on the corner they had just passed, a group of boys was congregating. _Shit. _

"Let's go in here!" Deidara said suddenly, tugging her in the direction of a music store, praying that she wouldn't question and that they wouldn't follow him.

"I'm not stupid," Yuki said mildly, though she let him drag her through the doors. "Those guys want you dead or something?" she jerked her head in the direction of them. Deidara opted out of responding.

He pretended to be interested in a CD – but on the inside he was planning his escape.

"Type O Negative?" Yuki read from over his shoulder. (Or rather, at his elbow. Like she was tall enough to see over his shoulder.) "Didn't pin you for the whole doom metal scene."

Deidara took a look at the album – _The Origin of the Feces_ – and put it back. "I'm not, idiot. It's called looking natural."

"Riiight," Yuki muttered. "If you need me, I'll be in the section with music from this century." She wandered off to presumably do just that.

Deidara, however, was panicking. Fritz and his gang – oh dear God, it wouldn't end well. There was no such thing as avoiding a fight when Fritz wanted one, not if you were alone – and he wasn't about to count a five foot tall girl as a possible fighter when it came to a brawl.

They could probably get out of there, but some of his friends worked downtown. He'd need to warn them.

Deidara stood there impatiently as the phone rang once, twice, before Sasori picked up. "What is it, brat?"

Sasori was never one for formalities.

"Fritz," Deidara said. "He's down by Ringleader's. I can't get there, but Kisame and Tobi – can you warn them?"

"Right. Stay away from them, and I'll handle it. Watch yourself. " The line went dead.

He sent a quick text to Kisame – he worked at some restaurant/café thing nearby with Tobi – and looked up to find Yuki watching him, one eyebrow raised.

"This sounds just like something from _The Outsiders,_" she mused. "So does that make you Ponyboy or Johnnycake?"

He scowled. "Shut up, hm. That guy _wants me dead. _Hell, he wants all of us dead. And If I'm Ponyboy that makes you – crap, what's her name?" He wasn't panicking so much now, it was more like anticipation, anxiety. "Don't give me that look. I'm not scared. It's just bad things happen when this guy gets involved – "

"I know," Yuki said. "I'm not stupid, I told you. Fritz is…ah, shall we say, a bastard of the first class." She crossed her arms. "So what happens now?"

"We hide out here, hm. I was just warning some friends. Then head back to the bar and hope that our fathers aren't too drunk to drive us home." Deidara adjusted his bangs. The two of them should be good for now, hidden behind the rows of albums. They had a good view of the entrance, but anyone coming in would have a hard time finding them.

"And what if they come in?" Yuki ventured, staring at a point over his shoulder. Deidara followed her gaze and felt his gut tighten. _Shit. _

One of Fritz's lackeys – some guy called Akio or something – had stepped in. He was tall and muscular, dye-red hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Who does that make him?" he found himself asking sarcastically.

Yuki grinned. "Tim Sheppard."

"That's reassuring," Deidara muttered. Tim Sheppard was a bit of an ass, if he remembered correctly.

"Come on," Yuki muttered. "If we navigate our way out of here right, we can slip out and run back to the bar."

"Or you know," Deidara said, "We can use the back." He gestured to the back door, located not even twenty steps away from them, and gave Yuki a condescending look.

"Or that," Yuki amended, walking towards the door quickly and quietly, like the little ninja she was. Deidara followed her, and said, "Once outside, run, hm."

She didn't get the chance to respond.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Almost as soon as Yuki stepped out, someone grabbed her none too gently by her arm. "HEY!" She shouted.

He was tall and slim, with dye-black hair and pale-pale blue eyes. Fritz. The notorious junior at her school who was rumored to feed upon the souls of kittens and the blood of starving children. Okay, maybe not really, but it was believable. "Boo," he said with a wicked grin.

She glared. "Fuck off." She tried to wrench her arm free, but he had her pinned against the wall. "Hey – " Deidara said as he walked out, but immediately Fritz abandoned her and swooped to him. "It's been awhile, prettyboy," he practically purred. Yuki rubbed her arm and prepared to kick him, but paused when she saw the glint of a blade in his hand.

_Lovely. A psychopathic, somewhat amoral, guy with a knife. _

Deidara glared at the other boy. "What do you want, hm?"

Fritz shrugged, almost conversationally. "Some fun, you know? I was thinking a good fight, rid the earth of a waste of space, the usual."

"So you were going to kill yourself then?" Deidara said in the same tone. "Shall we play Russian Roulette?"

"Only if I can load the gun!" Yuki couldn't resist adding. Fritz turned around and glared at her. "Stay outta this, girl."

"I. Don't. Think. SO!" Yuki punctuated her words by kicking him – hard – in the crotch and sprinting away, desperately hoping that Deidara would follow her.

She heard Fritz's growls and curses as her boots slammed down on the sidewalk. She felt someone coming up behind her and began to panic. But she lost her balance as she glanced behind, and she tripped, landing hard on her side.

She cursed as pain shot up her arm. The footfalls stopped, and someone was panting. Yuki was staring at the sidewalk, gritting her teeth. That freakin' _hurt. _Fritz did _not _want to mess with her now.

"You – okay, hm?" Deidara panted. Yuki relaxed but didn't say anything. Her right arm was smarting from where it hit the concrete, but other than that she was okay. "I'm – fine," she grit.

Deidara offered his hand and pulled her up. "C'mon. They're chasing." Yuki nodded and continued running. She wasn't a runner, but sometimes adrenaline and the night air and the chase gave you more energy than you thought you had. She flew by the cityscape, Deidara right beside her.

How long they ran Yuki didn't know, but Deidara stopped them when they were less than a block from the bar. "Stop here, hm," Deidara said. "We don't wanna go in there panting."

"Right," Yuki said, breathless. She cleared her throat. "Right."

They walked in silence for a minute, each belonging to their own thoughts, when Deidara finally said, "If Akio's Tim Sheppard then who is Fritz?"

"Dally," Yuki said automatically.

Deidara shook his head. "I don't think so, hm. Dally loved Johnny, remember? And he at least helped out Ponyboy. And he died. Fritz isn't Dally."

Yuki shrugged. "Poor Dally. Then I guess Fritz is like that Mark guy."

"There's no Mark in _The Outsiders,_" he pointed out.

Yuki rolled her eyes. "_That Was Then, This Is Now," _she said. "He's the – never mind. My dad's calling."

She took the call. "Hey," she said. "What's going on?"

"Where are you?" her dad asked. She couldn't hear the music, so she guessed he stepped outside.

"Almost back," she said, "We should be there in soon."

"Alright. Call me if there's a problem."

"See you," she said, and hung up.

"Well," Deidara said. "I'd prefer if we _didn't _tell our fathers of this particular escapade."

Yuki snorted. _No shit. _"Well duh," she said, poking him. "We'll just say I fell if they ask and other than that I think we're good." He arm was smarting where she hit the concrete, but she was otherwise okay. "Fritz didn't get you with a knife, did he?"

"Almost," Deidara said. "But no. Nice save by the way, hm." It was a grudging compliment, but Yuki grinned anyway. "I know."

"Dirty fighting, though," he said quickly. "I mean _come on. _Who _does that?" _

"You call it dirty fighting, I call it surviving," Yuki retorted as they approached the bar. "And it's not a fair fight anyway! He's like a foot taller than me, if you haven't noticed."

"_I'm _practically a foot taller than you, hm," Deidara said with a roll of his (visible) eye. "And so is half the world."

"Yea, well," Yuki muttered as she opened the door to the bar. They were greeted by loud, fast music and the scent of cigarettes and alcohol.

"Sasori is half obsessed with this song," Deidara said almost to himself. Yuki listened, and caught something along the lines of _come crawling faster – obey your master. _

"Master of Puppets? Heh. And he makes puppets. That's kinda funny," Yuki said. Deidara smirked. "I know, hm. It's like the one quirk that he _has._"

They made their way through the crowd to their fathers. Yuki's dad was telling some punch line, and the patrons around him were roaring with laughter. As they approached, Yuki's dad dismissed them, almost like a king.

"Alive, no tattoos, no obscure piercings," Yuki said with a sardonic grin. Her dad shook his head. "Watch yourself," he warned.

"Is that _blood?_" Deidara's dad asked, gesturing to her hand. Yuki looked down, perplexed. The outside of her hand, from the side of her wrist to her pinky, was bloody. She frowned. "Must've been when I tripped. Damn curbs. Oh well. At least the jacket's black." She grinned.

"Language," her father said warningly. He peeled some crisp bills from his wallet and left them on the bat under his glass. "Alright, Kenji. I'll see you."

The other man, looking slightly more drunk, nodded. "I catch you later," he said with a half grin.

"See you," Yuki said to Deidara with a mock two-fingered salute. He lifted his hand to say goodbye and said, "By the way, there's no way in _hell _I'm Johnny."

Yuki grinned. "Whatever you say, Ponyboy."

xxxxxxxxx

**As always, let me know your thoughts. Comments, questions, critiques, etc. And BTW, yes, I changed the genre to drama. ^-^ And It also may change to angst. Sorry, I just can't help it. **

**Whatchya think? **


	8. Chapter 8

**Back and ready! Woohoo! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! *lessthanthree***

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. **

Deidara walked into the art room that Tuesday quietly and with his head down. He heaved himself down into the chair next to her and said nothing; his shoulders were slumped and his posture wasn't the usual 'confident-to-the-point-of-arrogant,' which was reason enough to be concerned.

And the yellowing bruise on his jaw wasn't exactly a natural thing.

"Damn, Blondie," Yuki said, "Get into a fight or something?"

She expected him to snap something back, but instead he looked up and gave her a withering glare. "I'm not in the mood, girl," he grit. She narrowed her eyes buy said nothing as the bell rang.

_If looks could kill, right? _

But the period went on without incident, argument, or bodily harm. Not even _conversation. _

It was almost unnatural. Sure, they had been getting along better and all, but _still._ Deidara wasn't supposed to be all brooding. Sure, he could switch moods faster than her mother when she was on her period, but still. The glowering stare just didn't work for him. His hair was too blond.

_And he wonders why I claim he PMSes._

When the class ended, Deidara was out there before Yuki had even cleaned up. She wasn't in a rush, though – lunch was her next period, so there was really no reason to.

_Wonder what happened to him, though. Was it that Fritz kid? Or just one of those moronic fights that boys always get into? _

She pushed it aside, however, and went to lunch. Deidara was a big boy. He could handle it.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The stony silence Deidara had lapsed into continued throughout their after-school collaboration. Cinna was a little concerned, Yuki could tell just from looking at him – he'd glance up every so often and his brow would crease when he looked at Deidara. The atmosphere wasn't working for Yuki, either.

It was so unnervingly quiet that Yuki took out her iPod and worked under the influence of the music. Still, it made no difference. She glanced over at Deidara, wondering if perhaps his muses had abandoned him too, but he was working diligently away on the block of clay.

She frowned. She had a rather good relationship with her muses. _Maybe it's the lighting. Or the weather. Or that I got too much sleep last night. _

But then it was time to go home and Deidara was still acting all sullen, the line between Cinna's eyebrows hadn't disappeared, and the phoenix wasn't done.

And Yuki, being Yuki, decided to try and annoy him out of his mood. Violent Deidara was better than Sullen Deidara. So on the way home, Yuki poked him on the forehead. "What are you sitting on, Blondie?"

Deidara didn't appreciate her antics. "I'm not in the mood, hm," he said, sidestepping her.

But Yuki was nothing if not persistent. "Was it Fritz?" she asked, falling in step beside him and gesturing to his jaw. "'Cause _something _did a number to you."

Subconsciously, Deidara touched his face where the bruise was. He winced at the memory of getting it. "I got into a fight," he said simply. "It doesn't matter, okay?"

Yuki shrugged. "It's not just that, Blondie," she adjusted the strap of her bag. "You were actually – dare I say – _civil _today."

"What, I'm not allowed to behave nicely?" Deidara sneered. It wasn't so much that he was arguing his point as it was the need to counter her words, though he realized that she had a point.

"When it pertains to me, no," Yuki quipped, poking him again. "So what gives? Fritz? A moronic wrestling match? Some secret life as an undercover assassin?"

"You watch too much TV, hm," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "It was Fritz," he said, not meeting her eyes. "But it doesn't matter – he's not just gonna give up, you know. I just have to wait until he moves on to another target, and then it'll be fine. Like in middle school, hm. Just wait till the bully finds another target. Duck your head and –

"So you're taking his crap?" Yuki spoke as if she was personally affronted. Deidara grit his teeth. _Except it wasn't that at all. _Fritz he could handle easily enough – but Fritz on top of everything else was a little much, thankyousir.

"I'm dealing with it _just fine, _hm. And you might wanna learn to take crap if you plan on surviving. I wouldn't be surprised if he came after you next." With that he hoped to end the conversation, but Yuki wasn't about to end it there.

"'Dealing just fine' my ass," she muttered. "And was that a threat?"

"A warning," Deidara corrected, "One that you'd be smart to take. Let _me _deal with Fritz and _you_ just stay outta it. Guy like that would just take you getting involved as an invitation, hm."

"An invitation for _what?" _Yuki asked, rolling her eyes. "Are you saying I'm gonna get _raped - _?"

"I'm saying," Deidara said through clenched teeth, "That he'd likely stop beating on me and start beating on you. Or, worse, the both of us, hm. So just lay low. I can _handle _it."

"Fine but – "

"Drop it," he all but growled. Yuki frowned but surprised them both by not saying anything. They walked the rest of the way in silence, until they came to Yuki's street. "See you," he mumbled, but she stopped it. "Hold up." Before he knew what she was doing, Yuki had stood on tiptoe and lifted up his bangs. "You get a bottle thrown at you or something, Blondie?"

And that was what it looked like. The bruise on his jaw wasn't _too _bad, yellow-blue instead of purple-black. But the skin around his eye, concealed by his bangs, was a bad bruise, scabbed in places and looking painful as hell. She inwardly winced, but outwardly quirked an eyebrow.

Deidara shut his eyes for a second, then grasped her wrist and brought it to her side, while the other came up to fix his bangs. "Something like that," he said, "Look, this is really nothing new. You should see the other guy, hm. And it's not like I'm walking home alone, or that Fritz even lives in this neighborhood. I'm not stupid – when I go out, I have at least another guy with me. Okay?" he let go of her hand and started walking. "So no worries, hm."

"Right," Yuki said, in a tone that let him know she wasn't buying all of it. "Hang in there, alright? At least till May."

"Will do," he called, lifting a hand in farewell. The nastily sarcastic part of his mind, however, chimed mentally, _No promises. _

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"SENPAI!"

Deidara nearly broke the sculpting tool in half. _I swear, that kid gets louder _every day. He and Yuki were cleaning up the next day, preparing to leave – why would he look for Deidara _now? _As opposed to, say, _lunch. Where they sat at the same table._

Yuki turned, wondering who the hell had just screeched, and came nearly face-to-face with a black-haired kid. He was one of those guys who _had _to be a freshman, with a young, boyish face and wide dark eyes and _of course the best freakin' eyelashes and skin. Like, what the hell? _

And of course, he was still taller than her. It wasn't fair.

"Tobi," Deidara said in a carefully controlled, anger-just-below-the-surface voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Who's she?" Tobi asked, tilting his head. It made him look like a puppy.

"What are you doing here, hm!" Deidara demanded, crossing his arms. He had clay all over his shirt and his hands felt so dry that he wouldn't be surprised if they cracked.

"Waiting for you!" Tobi chirped. To Yuki, he said, "Why is Deidara grumpy today? And who are you? I'm Tobi!"

"I'm not grumpy!" Deidara fumed. Yuki tried to stifle a laugh but failed, because two guys above pre-school age had used the word _grumpy. _

"Yes, you are," Yuki said, poking him on the forehead. "And I'm Yuki."

"See, Yuki-chan's nice to Tobi!" Tobi said indignantly. Deidara snorted. "Right. Well, kid, what is it, hm?"

"Sasori wanted me to tell you that he's not going to be around for the rest of the week – something with senior retreat – but to give you this!" He held out a key in a gloved palm. "And that you should call him!"

Deidara took the key. "Will do, hm," he paused for a moment, then said, "Thanks."

Tobi nodded. "I gotta go now, but I'll see you! Bye, Yuki-chan!"

Yuki swore he _skipped _away.

Deidara cleared his throat, and Yuki blinked. "Does he always talk like that?"

Deidara nodded with a sigh. "Unfortunately. He's a hardcore otaku like you wouldn't _believe._"

Yuki had a feeling that she just might be able to believe it, but refrained from putting it out there. "And the third-person…?"

Deidara shook his head. "He does that sometimes. Went through a phase and never got outta it. Calls me and the rest of us 'senpai' half the time." He sounded exasperated, but it was clear from his tone that he tolerated Tobi – at least, that's what Yuki thought.

"Ah. Is he always so – so…" Yuki stopped, searching for a word.

"Hyper? Energetic? Fucked-up? Batshit?" Deidara suggested, dusting his hands off on his pants and grabbing his backpack.

"Hyper works fine," Yuki said, zipping her bag.

Deidara nodded. "You should've seen him the week he was on coffee." He inwardly shuddered at the memory. "I nearly strangled him."

Yuki rolled her eyes. "I don't doubt it. At all." She shouldered her bag and he followed her out of the room. "So what was that all about?"

"What?" he asked. He had been spacing out all today, catching himself as he started into nothingness.

Yuki gestured back to the room. "Hyper-freshman-kid?"

"Oh," Deidara said. "I was supposed to go to Sasori's for something – but now he wants me to take care of his cat while he's away."

Yuki, as usual, didn't miss a beat. "Sasori…has a _cat._" She repeated, slowly. "Calm, collected 'be-late-and-I'll-disembowel-you…_has a cat._"

Deidara both eyebrows at her, but the affect was lost under his bangs. "Are you really that surprised?"

Yuki shrugged. "Amused. Seriously. _A cat, _of all things."

Deidara shrugged as they walked. "Can you see him dealing with a dog, hm?"

"…point. Still, though. Why a cat? He's more of the goldfish type."

Deidara shrugged again. "You know Sasori?"

"He's friends with a friend of mine…so a little, by association. Why?"

Deidara wondered at the wisdom of telling Yuki about Sasori, but brushed it off. Sasori really didn't care who knew. "Well, he lives alone, hm. His grandmother died recently and he used to life with her. He's eighteen, so he lives alone now, but still, hm. Goldfish aren't good company, and he doesn't have the patience for dogs."

"Oh," Yuki murmured, quietly. "Well, that makes a little more sense. And who said he doesn't have the patience for dogs? He hangs out with _you, _doesn't he?" she poked him on the forehead.

Deidara rolled his eyes and in response pushed her into a pile of snow.

To say that Yuki was displease would be an understatement. In response, she stole his hair tie and ran.

And so the mutual abuse continued the entire way home.

xxxxxxxxxx

**Alright. So before anyone starts yelling about Tobi, allow me to explain a few things. **

**1. He is simply Tobi in this fic. Hyperactive, strange, endearing little Tobi. ^_^  
2. About the honorifics - He is the only character who uses them, because a) I didn't envision the characters using them [the meaning of AU] and b) seriously, can you picture Tobi _not _using them? I don't know what else he'd call Deidara, and...eh. It fit his character.**

**3. No, he will not talk in third person all the time, because, fanfic or not, who _does _that? ^_^ He shall be talking in third person some of the time. **

**Indigo, all that and he's not even a huge character...at least, I don't plan for him to be. But that may change. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright. Chapter nine: GO! **

**Thanks from the depths of my soul to all of you who review! **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto****.**

**... **

"Why do you always do that, hm?"

Yuki glanced up at Deidara and arched an eyebrow. "Do what?"

He gestured to the several crumpled papers on her desk. "Make something pretty decent and then hate it." The question had been plaguing him for a while now; it was something that you noticed about someone after a while, and he had been meaning to ask it. Currently in their art class and given the last fifteen minutes to turn in an unreferenced sketch, Deidara and Yuki were having the ritual conversation. He could sense that Yuki wasn't really in a talking mood, but he was Deidara and required some kind of entertainment or else he'd drive himself absolutely insane.

And when she wasn't insulting him, Yuki wasn't a bad conversationalist. Actually, he'd go as far as to say that he _enjoyed _talking to her.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

Yuki glared at the sketchbook before her. "Because nothing turns out right."

Deidara knew what she was talking about, sort of; it was rare that an artist liked their work – and if they did like it then you knew either they were an egotistical bastard or did a really fucking good job. But _still._

"So you hate everything you make." It came out as more of a statement than a question, flat and accompanied with The Look.

"Pretty much, Blondie," Yuki drawled, tapping her pencil onto her desk.

Correction: he enjoyed talking to her when she actually talked in sentences.

"Emo child," he muttered in exasperation. Yuki arched an eyebrow at him. "_You're _calling me an Emo Child? Alright, Mr. Sidebangs."

"You love the side bangs," he said, not even bothering to defend himself because he already knew it'd be pointless. "Don't even try to deny it, hm." _Psh. Side bangs? Really? Anyone could tell it's a _fringe.

"Of course," she retorted dryly, still frowning at the paper like it had just killed her only friend.

At the end of the period she wound up turning in and older piece torn from her sketchbook. As the bell rang and the students left, she told Cinna, "I can't make it today; there's some kind of thing going on with my cousin and I need to be home." The way she said it made it sound like she had been forced into it against he will.

Cinna nodded. "Very well. I'll see you tomorrow."

Yuki nodded. "Right, thanks," and left.

Deidara arched an eyebrow at her as they walked down the hall. "Can't make it the day your artistic hand abandons you, hm? Sounds a little convenient, don't you think?"

Yuki shrugged. "I wouldn't call familial issues _convenient _but I guess you could look at it that way."

Huh. No snide remark, not even a touch of sarcasm – and now that he thought about it, her shoulders were _definitely _slumped. "Right," he said, and then he had to turn so he said, "See ya."

She said nothing but lifted her hand in farewell.

Xxxxxxxx

Yuki was a freakin' _mess._

It was a wonder she had been able to lie so flatly to Cinna. Much as she didn't want to do that, she still gave herself props for composure.

She couldn't sit still; she could hardly eat lunch. Zoë and Kaya might've noticed something, but the kept to themselves and tried to distract her.

Yuki appreciated it, and tried to along with her friends, but it didn't do much to stave off the apprehension.

The fateful time came – two thirty – and she met him on the roof of the school (with thoughts along the lines of _is that even allowed?) _just like he specified.

Cornered as she may be, she could always jump off. Or push him. Whichever was more suitable.

And he was waiting there, just like he specified, a slash of black against the gray wall he leaned on. "So she comes," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Yuki scowled. "I'm here, it's two thirty, what in unholy hell could you possibly want?"

Fritz grinned roguishly and took a step towards her. "To talk."

She didn't give him a chance to elaborate. "So talk." She had no idea what she wanted, no idea why in the hell _Fritz _of all people wanted to meet her on the roof _to talk._ Other than fleeting glimpses around school she hadn't seen him since last weekend, almost a week ago.

Besides his possible beating up of Deidara, she had thought that she was done with him. Then she had found the note in her locker.

Her hand flew to her pocket, where aforementioned note was. She had nearly memorized what it had said. _Meet me on the roof, little girl. There's some things you should know. Tomorrow, two-thirty. Come alone. Don't show up and consider you're little art project trashed beyond repair. -Fritz_

If it weren't for that last sentence and the name, she wouldn't have even shown up and probably considered it a prank of Zoë's doing.

Fritz took another step forward; Yuki took one back. He said nothing about that, but the amusement was written on his face. "There are some things you have to know, girl. Something that I'm going to assume you don't know."

"And that is…?" she drawled, putting up a sarcastic front but not letting her guard down. _The hell does he mean? _"Look, I don't have time for any crap."

Fritz glared at her. "Well, do you want to know or not, girlie?"

Yuki rolled her eyes. "What I want to know is why you decided to beat up Deidara."

Fritz arched an eyebrow at her. "What are you on, kid? I haven't touched your prettyboy. _That _was his father. But if you don't shut up and _listen _to me, I swear I will."

Yuki was about to object because Deidara was certainly _not her prettyboy,_ but for once she heeded her mind and didn't say anything. What he had implied didn't go past her – she made note of that and planned on asking Deidara about it later. _His dad? Holy crap…_

Fritz waited a minute to make sure she wasn't going to speak, and said, "Alright. Now _listen. _Get that look of your face – I'm not about to hurt my sister."

It took two seconds for his words to register with Yuki. "The fuck are you on?"

Fritz grinned wickedly and spread his arms out. "You heard me. You're _my sister._"

Yuki rolled her eyes. All her fear was gone; clearly Fritz was messing with her. "Right. Okay now, see you – "

But somehow, Fritz got in front of her and was blocking the doorway. "I don't think so, girl. It'd be smart to hear me out." Though his words were mild, there was a razor-sharp threat underneath.

Yuki glared up at him and took a step back. "Why should I? I _don't _have _any _siblings, and there is no possible way you're my brother. At all. My parents are married – _were _married before you were born – "

"Shit happens," he said with vicious smirk, taking a step forward as she took another one back. "We're half siblings. Just ask your – _our – _father."

"You are so full of shit, you know that?" Yuki snarled. Who the hell was this guy to insinuate that her father had had an affair? Sure, her parents fought and all, but this would have to be more than seventeen _years _ago, long before the current family situation.

Before Fritz could say anything to counter her words, Yuki darted around him and yanked the door open. "Don't talk to me. _Ever. Again._" And with that, she slammed the door closed.

She didn't see the look on the boy's face as she left, nor did she see what he was holding in his hand.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Deidara saw Yuki walking away from school as he was leaving the building. _What? She said she'd be home…the hell is going on? If she bailed I swear to God…_

"Hey!" he called, and the girl stopped and whirled in his direction. She waited till he caught up with her, and he said, "The hell you doing here?"

Yuki shrugged. "Came back for a book. By the time we found out my cousin _wasn't _dying, it was too late to get back here."

_Seems a little far-fetched._ "Right," he said.

There was a heavy, lengthy silence. Deidara wondered what was going on with Yuki – she seemed distant, maybe a little troubled. "What's up, hm?"

Yuki arched an eyebrow. "Walking home from school…?"

"You're sitting on something, hm."

She rolled her eyes. "I am _not,_" she said, "_sitting _on anything."

Deidara waited for a beat, and then Yuki said, "Alright, I lied, I am. Just – ah – you won't like it."

If anything, that made Deidara even more curious. "Try me."

"First tell me exactly where you got your bruises." She stopped and turned to him, gestured to his face where the still-healing marks were. "And don't give me any crap." She gave him a steely look, and Deidara felt a twinge in his gut that told him that Yuki _knew._

"Why do you want to know?" he said, rooted to the spot. "Like I said, it's no big deal, hm."

"Was it your dad?"

Yuki desperately wanted him to say no, idiot, what the hell are you thinking, because _obviously _she didn't want him to be abused and because if he said no that meant Fritz was wrong. She didn't know why, but she felt that if Fritz was right about Deidara's dad then he was somehow right – in the most twisted, screwy interpretation of the term – about hers.

Deidara shook his head. "What makes you think that, hm?"

She was quiet for a minute, then said, softly, "Fritz."

"You take what he has to say seriously?" Deidara said with a snort, rolling his eyes and continuing walking. "Then I wonder what you think of what you read on the internet, hm."

Yuki frowned but followed him. "Don't get your panties in a twist, I was just asking, okay?"

"The question is," Deidara said, "Why were you talking to Fritz?"

She shrugged and turned into her driveway. "It was nothing; he spewed mostly crap, anyway." She said it more to herself, but Deidara didn't question it. He had the feeling that Yuki was just talking to air and probably just having a bad day or something.

They said their goodbyes and Deidara sighed in relief as he continued home. It wasn't that his dad was _abusive;_ it wasn't that at all. They got into fights sometimes, and Deidara would do his fair share of yelling and screaming.

It was just that last time things had gotten a little out of hand.

**As always, let me know your thoughts.**


	10. Chapter X

**Chapter X! **_**Finally.**_

**Thanks to everyone for their reviews. You're all awesome. **

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO.**

No sooner did Yuki walk into homeroom that day than she was paged on the intercom: _Yuki Kioko and Deidara Katsu please go to the art room _immediately.

She swallowed and tried to shove down her rising panic; the words had that vibe to them, one that lets you know that _someone _in charge is pissed off and you _will_ be the target of their anger.

_The hell did Blondie do _this _time?_

She headed to that art room slowly, but soon enough she was there. Discreetly as she could manage, Yuki slipped into the room.

She wasn't discreet enough.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Tsunade stood in the front of the room, along with Cinna, Shizune, and a very vexed-looking Orochimaru.

"What's what?" she asked, blinking at the teachers. _What do they want? It's not even eight o clock yet…_

Tsunade pursed her lips and pointed. Yuki followed her arm and nearly had a heart attack. "_What?"_

She was greeted with a moment of silence, then the sound of an opening door.

"Hey, hm, what was I called here for?" Deidara frowned upon entering, then followed Tsunade's arm, and Yuki's gaze. His jaw dropped and a part of him withered and died on the spot.

His sculpture…the one that he had spent _months on…_was _ruined. _Blackened and cracked and deformed in ways he couldn't even begin to process.

There was only one explanation.

"What did you _do?_"

Yuki whirled. "_Me? _Uh, _hello, _why in hell would I slash my own canvas?"

Deidara's clay was ruined; Yuki's canvas had been slashed in three different places; the material hung from the wooden frame, like some morbid wilting flower. She almost didn't believe it - she had spent way too much time and energy on this for it to be _destroyed_.

She wanted to cry.

"I dunno, you _are _pretty insane, hm!"

"Why so defensive, covering something up?" she shot back.

"_What?" _

"You heard me!"

"ENOUGH."

Seething, they turned their attention to the speaker. Orochimaru held the bridge of his nose in his thumb and forefingers. He was silent for a second, and that was the scariest second of Yuki's life.

Hey, the man was _creepy._

_Especially _when pissed.

"Correct me if I am wrong," he began, "but the _both _of you are in my chemistry class."

Yuki didn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded.

"Well?" The teacher's voice took on an altogether more dangerous tone as he looked up. "Are you?"

"Yes," Yuki answered.

"Yea."

"Good." Yuki didn't like the way he said that. "Then you should know what sulfuric acid is." He paused in that way that teachers do when they expect an answer.

"Yea," Deidara said. "But what does that have to do with the – "

Orochimaru silenced him by holding up a hand. "Take a look at the clay, Mr. Katsu. Miss Kioko, do tell us what sulfuric acid does?"

"Um," Yuki said. She didn't like being put on the spot, didn't like the entire situation or the feeling that she had in her gut. "Ah, it – "

"I'll even give you a hint. Remember the experiment last month, when we added sulfuric acid to sugar? What did it do?"

"It, ah, left behind the carbon but stripped the oxygen and hydrogen. Released a lot of heat." Yuki's eyes flitted over to the clay. _Wait! Aww, shit. _

"It stripped the sugar of the water molecules, hm," Deidara said. He was kneeling next to the ruined piece of clay. He glanced up at the ceiling and, sure enough, there was a blackened spot just above his sculpture, as if made by smoke.

Orochimaru nodded. "Exactly. Now, please tell me, which of you took straight sulfuric acid from the supply cabinet and poured it all over the sculpture? And slashed the canvas? No one?" He sounded mocking, doubtful. Yuki wanted to punch him.

"Hey!" Deidara stood so fast Yuki was surprised something didn't fall down. "You think one of us did that? We spent _months_ on the project, hm, and we're not _stupid._"

_Was I just defended by _Blondie?

Yuki would dwell on that later. She crossed her arms. "I wouldn't slash my own painting."

"But the clay?" Orochimaru asked, locking his amber gaze onto hers. "You _do _have a history of sabotaging the supply, if Ms. Tsunade is correct." He gestured to the ruined lump. "Whoever did it had to be in chemistry at some point. They chose sulfuric acid specifically for its corrosive properties."

"Nope," Deidara added in a tone that made Yuki wince – _talking like that isn't gonna get them on our side, Blondie!_ – "both of our futures are depending on this, hm. Neither of us would risk that by destroying it."

Tsunade pursed her lips. "You're telling me that neither of you had anything to do with it?"

Yuki nodded, mind whilrling. _Don't tell me that _this _was what Fritz meant…shit…_

Something must've shown on her face – in reality is was hardly noticeable, but Yuki was unfortunately in the presence of Orochimaru; the man could read facial expressions like a librarian read books.

"Yuki? Have something to say, hmmm?" he arched an eyebrow and tilted his head ever-so-slightly to the right, his silky hair sliding over his shoulder in such a fluid motion that Yuki was almost reminded of a snake.

"Thin ice," Cinna muttered. Yuki glanced at him, but he gave no indication that he spoke.

"No," Yuki said finally. "No, I don't."

"Well than who did it?" Tsunade snapped.

"We _don't know,_" Deidara retorted. He gave Yuki a sidelong glance – she averted his gaze. The reality of everything was sinking into her: Fritz did it. He had been effing _serious._

_Which means…oh God, if he was telling the truth…_

She swallowed. "I wasn't even _here_ after school."

"And Deidara was with me," Cinna said.

Orochimaru all but audibly hissed; Tsunade pursed her lips and massaged her temples. "It's too damn early," she muttered.

There was a long pause, and Deidara asked, "So what happens now, hm?"

Tsunade looked up. "Until we find out who did it? Nothing. Frankly, I'm fed up with the two of you. Until _someone _offers me some answers, consider this your last semester in art."

"_What?" _

"But we –"

"I don't want to hear it," Tsunade said sharply. Both students stood, gaping at her, and she snapped, "Well? Don't you have a homeroom to get to or something?"

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"I really can't believe you," Deidara snarled as soon as the door was shut behind them.

Yuki glared at him. "The freakin' hell do you mean?"

He gestured angrily back to the art room as they continued down the hallway. The few students that were still at their lockers gave them odd looks, but neither of them was focusing on that right now. "You _just destroyed the project._"

Yuki stopped and whirled to face him. She poked him in the chest, hard. "You think I did that? God, you must've been hit on your head _really _hard."

Deidara looked affronted, but he continued, "I _saw _you here yesterday, hm. Everything makes sense now!"

"_I was here,_" Yuki hissed, "Because I was _meeting Fritz to _save_ the goddamn thing!"_

Deidara scoffed. "Fritz, hm? How stupid do I _look?_"

"You don't want me to answer that," Yuki quipped. "And tell me: _why _would I slash my own canvas? And like you said: my future rests on this thing too!"

Deidara opened his mouth, then shut it again. He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, then growled, "Why the hell were you talking to Fritz, hmm?"

"Because he threatened to destroy it!" she grit. She exhaled, slowly, then muttered, "Guess I didn't take him seriously enough. Bastard!"

"Well _way to fucking go!"_

Before she could respond, someone began a slow, sarcastic _clap. _

_Clap. _

_Clap._

Fritz.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the boy only shook his head. "Well, well, well, looks like we have ourselves a rather sticky situation, don't we?" he gave a chuckle.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Yuki snarled.

"What, you didn't like what I decided to do to your little project?" he asked with a wicked smile.

"Told you," Yuki shot at Deidara.

The boy wasn't paying any attention to her. "Bastard!" he growled, and lunged at Fritz.

The older boy sidestepped him. Deidara reacted, swinging his fist into Fritz's stomach. It probably would've made it, too, and would have been a hard hit, but before his fist could reach its target, Fritz elbowed him in the ribs.

Deidara dropped like a rock.

"Hey!" Yuki yelled, taking a step forward. Fritz shook his head at her. "See, girl, _this _is what happens when I'm not taken seriously. People get hurt. Things get ruined." He shrugged in a manner that didn't fit the situation.

"And that, dear children, is called _immaturity._ Seriously, Goth Boy, what in all the _nine hells is wrong with you?_" Yuki narrowed her eyes. Deidara got up, slowly, and snarled, "Consider yourself dead!"

"Scary," Fritz drawled flatly. "I'll be sure to watch out. And, well, _sister,_ call me an attention whore, but I rather like it when people listen to me." He smirked.

"Fine! _Talk." _

"Sister?"

Yuki narrowed her eyes at Fritz. "What you are about to hear, Blondie, is the epitome of bullshit. But please." She made an overly elegant gesture to Fritz. "Speak your words."

"You wound me," Fritz said, with the same false sophistication, though his words lacked the venom that Yuki's did. "But I shall."

"_What_?"

"Shut it, Prettyboy," Fritz said. "You might as well hear."

He turned back to Yuki. "Don't you get it? I was _serious._ We're siblings."

"_What the fuck?" _

"Like I said," Yuki said dryly, not taking her attention off Fritz. "Bullshit."

Fritz _tsked. _"But look where that got you. I _did_ give you a fair warning, didn't I?" he smirked again and held out an empty vial, just like the ones found in the chem lab.

Deidara shot Yuki a look, but she wasn't paying attention to him. She was glowering at Fritz, staring at the thing in his hand.

"What proof do you have? That we're siblings, huh? I get that you sabotaged the project and beat up Deidara, but that could just be because you're a sadistic prick who needs an attitude adjustment." She crossed her arms.

Fritz shook his head. "I _told _you, that's not me. Nice as the idea sounds, the little fuck has connections. I like my head on my shoulders." He sighed dramatically. "And really, what proof do you want? Just ask your father. But –"

Yuki didn't give him the chance to finish that. She took a step forward and punched him in the jaw.

Hard.

Fritz, however, wasn't vexed. He caught her fist. "Nice right hook but," he brought it to the middle of his torso, above his stomach and below his heart. "Hit _there._ It deals more damage. A hit to the face is only a shock factor."

Yuki wrenched her hand free of his grasp. _Creep._

Behind her stood Deidara, breathing shallowly but ready to jump in if he needed to. He wondered in the back of his mind why no one was in the hallway, but shrugged it off.

There were more important things he needed to be concentrating on.

Like the confrontation before him or the pain in his ribs, for example.

Fritz shook his head. "Proof? Well. Your hands are probably bigger than normal –"

"I'm into art and short already. Next." Yuki waved her hand dismissively.

Fritz took a measured breath, like he was trying not to hit her. "Your skinny. Short too –"

"Gee, thanks."

"- but you probably got _that _from your mother. Your sense of humor is off-color and you have a birthmark – "

Fritz took a step forward and grabbed Yuki by the shoulder. He pulled the collar of her flannel aside, baring her left shoulder. "Here."

"Sicko, let her go!"

"Get the hell _off _me," Yuki seethed, twisting out of Fritz's grip and adjusting her collar. "And those are all trivial. _Lots _of people have big hands and are short and skinny – _Deidara _is," she pointed out, gesturing to him. "And what the hell does off-color humor have to do with anything? And _birthmark?_ All _that _tells me is that I'm being stalked, which is weird 'cause it's not summer and you wouldn't be able to _see _my shoulder!"

Fritz was growing aggravated, Deidara could tell, even if Yuki was too angry to fully realize that. He was volatile, and not afraid to get violent with girls.

_Thin, thin ice._

"Fine," Fritz said. His voice had an edge now, lying just underneath the surface. "You want _proof_? Here." He leaned down, lifted up his jet-black bangs, exposing lighter, blond roots.

"So what? _Loads _of people are blond. Are you _sure _that Deidara's not your father?" Yuki shook her head.

"No," Fritz barked. She tried not to show it, but it startled her. "Look closer, girl. Not blond, _white._ A pain in the ass, too. Doesn't hold color very well."

Yuki started. Was this creep making fun of her? "_What?" _

"Funny," he said, standing back up, "That the only two albinos in the school aren't related, wouldn't you say?"

"My dad's not –"

"I _know._ Albinism is a recessive genetic disorder – inherited from your parents –"

"I _know _what 'genetic' means."

Fritz gave her a look. "Could you _please shut up_? There. Much better. Now. Your father must be a carrier or something, and, well, guess it's a coincidence that our mothers are, too –unless it's one of those freaky things that shouldn't be dominant but it is."

"You could be b.," Deidara said. "You _could _just be light blond. Kinda hard to tell with all that dye." He crossed his arms and took a step forward, narrowing his eyes at Fritz.

The older boy chuckled. "Fine, Prettyboy. I'll let my roots grow out. Maybe _then _we'll convince little sister here." With that he grinned, gave a sarcastic two-fingered salute, and turned to go.

"_Don't _call me that," Yuki growled, but the bell had rung and he was lost in the swarm of students.

She bit her lip and turned to Deidara. He glared at the retreating back of Fritz's head. "This is bullshit!" he growled.

"You said it."

Xxxxxxxx

**Sorry for the late update. Or, maybe it's not late. Maybe it's just me.**

**And yes, males can be carriers if the disorder is not X-linked.**

**As always, let me know your thoughts.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Wow, this is ridiculously overdue. **

**I can offer no other legitimate excuse other than that I am a creative mind and thusly fickle. Alas, us authors are known for our passions that begin and end as quickly as a dying star…**

**Erm, okay, cutting the melodrama. Here is the rather late, fictional chapter eleven. **

**And never fear. I know how this is going to end. Which means it won't be discontinued or whatever. **

**I pinky swear. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. **

To say the least, art class that day was awkward.

Deidara frowned down at his painting and added a highlight to the side of a building. He was _pissed. _What the hell was up with Fritz? Going all postal like that…his frown turned into a scowl and he suppressed the urge to lather the brush with black paint and drag it across his painting.

_Or shoot someone. That'd be nice, too._

Yes, yes it would be. It wouldn't be so bad if…he didn't know. If Yuki would stop wallowing in angst or Cinna would actually _say_ something.

Or if the giant lump of clay wasn't sitting in the corner of the room _mocking _him.

He grit his teeth and clenched the paintbrush, cleaning it with just a _little _more force than was necessary.

The period was almost over; when it ended, Deidara was only half-surprised when Cinna requested that he and Yuki stay later.

They complied, sharing an anxious look.

Cinna put his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose and said, "I trust that neither of you were involved with…" he didn't say anything, only gestured to the back of the class.

Deidara nodded, not looking at Yuki. _I know _I _wasn't._

Cinna sighed. "Figures. I can't promise anything. I'm _not _promising you anything. But if either of you has the compulsion to work on a project outside of school, be my guest."

Yuki and Deidara stood in silence. Deidara took that as a dismissal – no shit he and Yuki weren't going to work on that. He had enough going on as it was.

Cinna looked up at their blank stares and sighed again, though his voice gathered in anger as he spoke. "I don't know if either you realize this, but the both of you have potential. Ridiculous potential. And to see it going to waste – " he made a disgusted sound. "Over something so _trivial –_" he cut himself off and shook his head. "Never mind. You still have time to get to your next class. Blame me if you're late."

It was an obvious dismissal. Deidara turned to say something to Yuki as he left, but she was already striding ahead of him.

He frowned and made a strangled noise as the words caught in his throat. He turned heel, long coat whirling behind him, and stalked to his next class.

x.x.x.x.x.x

Deidara carefully calculated the mood of his father before approaching him.

The man was sitting in his chair, watching the game, beer in hand. A quick glance at the scoreboard proved that the preferred team was winning, it was only a little after five, and he was probably in a good mood.

His dad + a beer or two/ laid-back wasn't bad. If anything, it mellowed him out.

It was when any factor in the equation changed – then things got ugly.

Deidara sat down, wondering exactly how to approach the topic. He thought about clearing his throat, then decided that that would be too obvious.

So instead he leaned back, pretended to be interested in sweaty men getting too close to each other than was necessarily comfortable, and said, "That guy from the bar –"

"Kyo?" his father supplied, eyes flickering to Deidara.

Deidara grunted. "Yea. He have any other kids?"

"Kenji? Nah," he waved his hand dismissively. "I was actually surprised when he got married."

"Oh?"

"He had aspirations to form a hardcore rock band and tour the world," his dad deadpanned. "No, I'm serious."

Deidara thought back. "Not _that_ hard to believe, hm. And it explains Yuki."

His father chuckled. "So it does. And – aw, shit!" a stream of profanities were thrown at the T.V., or more specifically the _players_ on the T.V., and rather than point out that they couldn't hear him, Deidara silently got up and retreated to his room.

x.x.x.x.x.x

Yuki sat at the kitchen table with her father and silently mulled over the question she was about to ask. She wasn't about to let herself chicken out over it…

…but how the hell do you ask your dad if he has another kid?

_With another woman._

Yuki inwardly cringed at the thought and decided not to dwell on it._ Squicky, much?_ She was thankful that he mother wasn't there – she had literally stormed out of the house ten minutes ago, saying she'll be back later _maybe._

Yuki stared at the pasta in front of her and said, "In all seriousness, was there another kid before me or something? Some sorta genius-boy who was a total sweetheart who died or something? Or a miscarriage or –"

Yuki cut herself off – she was officially receiving _That Look. _The look that people with a higher social ranking than you give when you've put your foot in your mouth.

The Look that made you shut your mouth and avert your eyes if you had any sense of self-preservation.

And Yuki did just that, going back to staring at the untouched pasta in front of her. Her eyes flickered to her father's face, trying to see any of Fritz in him.

She tried, looking, but it made her sick because they both had the same cut of high cheekbones and square jawline.

Her father was still looking at her that that peculiar way, and it was with great deliverance that he set his fork down. "Don't you ever," he said, "Think that. Understand?"

_Oh shit. He thinks I'm going through some angsty crisis where I feel unwanted because he and Mom are fighting. Wonderful. _"I was just saying –" she began quickly, but her cut her off.

"Yuki, I don't know what put that idea into your head, but don't think that you're any less loved. Got it?" He was still giving her That Look, and she was quelled. "Okay," she mumbled. For the sake of decorum she stayed still for another thirty seconds, then stood up. "I have homework," was her lame excuse.

She could feel her father's eyes on her as she left the kitchen, and even when she was safe behind closed doors in her room, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling away.

x.x.x.x.x

Short? Check. Filler? Ish.

Never fear, this shall be updated! I hath no given up on it yet!

_**As always, let me know your thoughts.**_


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